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IN  A  CLUB  CORNER.  The  Monologue  of  a  Man  who 
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Jl.2S. 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  &  COMPANY, 
BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK. 


In  a  Club  Corner 


THE  MONOLOGUE  OF  A  MAN   WHO  MIGHT 
HAVE   BEEN   SOCIABLE 


OVERHEARD  BY 


A.  P.  RUSSELL 

AUTHOR  OF  "A  CLUB  OF  ONE,"  "LIBRARY  NOTES, " 
"CHARACTERISTICS,"  BTC. 


BOSTON    AND    NEW    YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN   AND   COMPANY 

(£fce  ftitersibe  press,  Cambridge 

1895 


Copyright,  1890, 
Bv  ADDISON  P.  RUSSELL. 

All  rights  reserved. 


EIGHTH   EDITION. 


The  Riverside  Press.  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Company. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Conversation  - 


Originality 

One  Quality  of  tbe  Great 
Precept  and  Practice 
Long  Sermons 


Oblivion gf 

Subsisting  by  Autlorslip 84 

Pretension     .     . gp 

Sbakespeara .     pa 

Paradoxes p<j 

Solitude 10? 

Style i,o 

Public  Speaking ,  ,4 

Books  and  Reading /  /p 

Vanity /2p 

Justice  and  Mercy /  ^2 

Sheridan «/?7 

Garrick 752 

On  Giving  Advice ,64 

Limits ,66 

On  Working  Ourselves  Up 168 

Of  Incalculable  Fortes /7/ 


2018901 


4  Contents 

Deceiving  it  rough  tie  Affections ij6 

A  Pretty  Legend /77 

Selecting  Memories /  j8 

Manners 792 

Self-Portraiture 797 

Tbe  Philosopher's  Stone 198 

Reading  Aloud 202 

Tbe  Oblique  Tendency 210 

Whistling 214 

Sentimentalism 2/5 

Cost  of  Excellence 2/9 

Youth  and  Age 226 

Schools  of  Morals 229 

Chairs  of  Common  Sense 229 

Small  Things 230 

Sects  and  Creeds 2)8 

Good  out  of  Evil 239 

Tbe  Faith  Cure 241 

Poverty 243 

Digestion 257 

Heroism 25^ 

Character 255 

Tbe  Hope       267 

Intuition  and  Worship 274 

Friendship 27$ 

Ignorance 279 

Faces 279 

Heredity 288 

Tbf  Laconic 296 


Contents  5 

Monotony  and  Familiarity 302 

Sleep  of  the  Mind 304 

Tbe  Friendly  Guidance  of  Necessity 308 

The  Palm  of  Destiny _jop 

Content 314 

Democracy 316 

Proud  Possessors 318 

Responsibility 320 

Essays  in  Titles jii 


IN  A  CLUB  CORNER 

N  Dean  Swift's  Hints  towards 
an  Essay  on  Conversation,  he 
sets  out  by  saying  that  he  had 
observed  few  obvious  subjects 
to  have  been  so  seldom,  or  at 
least  so  slightly,  handled  as  this,  and  that 
few  were  so  difficult  to  treat.  Conver- 
sation is  an  art,  says  Emerson,  in  which 
a  man  has  all  mankind  for  his  competitors, 
for  it  is  that  which  all  are  practicing  every 
day  while  they  live.  Metternich  is  re- 
ported to  have  said,  "  In  my  whole  life  I  *"*"'* 
have  only  known  ten  or  twelve  persons 
with  whom  it  is  pleasant  to  speak  —  that 
is,  who  keep  to  the  subject,  do  not  repeat 
themselves,  and  do  not  talk  of  themselves  ; 
men  who  do  not  listen  to  their  own  voices, 
who  are  cultivated  not  to  lose  themselves 
in  commonplaces  ;  and  lastly,  who  possess 
tact  and  good  sense  enough  not  to  elevate 
their  own  persons  above  their  subjects." 
Steele  said,  "  It  is  a  secret  known  but  to 


8  In  a  Club  Corner 

few,  yet  of  no  small  use  in  the  conduct  of 
life,  that  when  you  fall  into  a  man's  con- 
versation,  the  first  thing  that  you  should 
consider  is,  whether  he  has  a  greater  in- 
clination to  hear  you,  or  that  you  should 
hear  him."  "To  please,"  observed  Cham- 
fort,  "one  must  make  up  his  mind  to  be 
taught  many  things  which  he  already 
knows,  by  people  who  do  not  know  them." 
"The  reason  why  few  persons  are  agree- 
able in  conversation,"  thought  La  Roche- 
foucauld, "  is  because  each  thinks  more  of 
what  he  intends  to  say  than  of  what  others 
are  saying,  and  seldom  listens  but  when 
he  desires  to  speak."  La  Bruyere  was  of 
opinion  that  "  the  art  of  conversation  con- 
sists much  less  in  your  own  abundance 
than  in  enabling  others  to  find  talk  for 
themselves.  Men  do  not  wish  to  admire 
you  \  they  want  to  please.  The  wit  of 

wtio/con-       J  '  .  ...... 

versation      conversation  consists  more  in  finding  it  in 
Z%M*.       others  than  in  showing  a  great  deal  your- 
self ;  he  who  goes  from  your  conversation 
pleased  with  himself   and  his  own  wit  is 
perfectly  well  pleased  with  you." 

The  question  was  once  put  to  Aristotle, 
how  we  ought  to  behave  to  our  friends,  and 
the  answer  he  gave  was,  "As  we  should 
wish  our  friends  to  behave  to  us."  The 


In  a  Club  Corner  9 

world  has  been  justly  likened  to  a  looking- 
glass,  which  gives  back  to  every  man  the 
reflection  of  his  own  face.  Frown  at  it, 
and  it  will  in  turn  look  sourly  upon  you ; 
laugh  at  it  and  with  it,  and  it  is  a  jolly, 
kind  companion. 

One  of  the  best  rules  in  conversation, 
in  the  opinion  of  Swift,  is  never  to  say  a  ' 
thing  which  any  of  the  company  can  rea- 
sonably wish  we  had  left  unsaid  ;  nor  can 
anything  be  well  more  contrary  to  the 
ends  for  which  people  meet  together  than 
to  part  unsatisfied  with  each  other  or  them- 
selves. Conversation,  in  the  judgment  of 
Sydney  Smith,  must  and  ought  to  grow 
out  of  materials  on  which  men  can  agree, 
not  upon  subjects  which  try  the  passions. 

Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu,  who  had 
tried  all  things,  pronounced  a  chosen  con- 
versation, composed  of  a  few  that  one 
esteems,  the  greatest  happiness  of  life. 
Of  indoor  entertainment,  it  has  been  re-  ufe.tnes3 " 
marked,  the  truest  and  most  humane  is 
that  of  conversation.  But  this  social 
amusement  is  not,  in  all  circumstances,  to 
be  got,  and  when  it  is  to  be  had,  we  are 
not  always  fit  for  it.  The  art  of  conver- 
sation is  so  little  cultivated,  the  tongue  is 
so  little  refined,  the  play  of  wit  and  the 


ro  In  a  dub  Corner 

flow  of  fancy  are  so  little  encouraged  or 
esteemed,  that  our  social  gatherings  are  too 
Taikathe  often  stupid  and  wearisome.  Talkative 
'read."  "  men,  it  has  been  observed,  seldom  read. 
This  is  among  the  few  truths  which  appear 
the  more  strange  the  more  we  reflect  upon 
them  ?  For  what  is  reading  but  silent  con- 
versation ?  Conversation,  said  Sterne,  is 
a  traffic  ;  and  if  you  enter  into  it  without 
some  stock  of  knowledge  to  balance  the 
account  perpetually  betwixt  you,  the  trade 
drops  at  once.  Though,  as  Dr.  Holmes 
has  said,  "  Nobody  talks  much  that  doesn't 
say  unwise  things,  —  things  he  did  not 
mean  to  say;  as  no  person  plays  much 
without  striking  a  false  note  sometimes. 
Talk,  to  me,  is  only  spading  up  the  ground 
for  crops  of  thought.  I  can't  answer  for 
what  will  turn  up.  If  I  could,  it  would  n't 
be  talking,  but  'speaking  my  piece.'  Bet- 
Abandon.  ter,  I  think,  the  hearty  abandonment  of 
teif.  one's  self  to  the  suggestions  of  the  moment, 

at  the  risk  of  an  occasional  slip  of  the 
tongue,  perceived  the  instant  it  escapes, 
but  just  one  syllable  too  late,  than  the 
royal  reputation  of  never  saying  a  foolish 
thing."  Alcott  expressed  the  belief  that 
"  in  conversation  fine  things  may  be  said, 
but  the  best  must  come  of  themselves; 


In  a  Club  Corner  1 1 

they  cannot  be  coerced  ;  they  must  be  born 

of  the  soul.     All  true  conversation  is  spon-  True  con. 

venation 

taneous,  and  only  comes  when  the  gods  spontaneous. 
are  near.  When  the  gods  are  distant  it 
is  because  of  adverse  influences.  The  in- 
tuitions are  the  essence  of  all  wisdom,  and 
all  the  intuitions  come  from  the  shrine  of 
nature,  which  we  must  hold  in  reverence. 
There  is  no  finite.  The  circles  of  our 
being  begin  and  end  in  eternity." 

A  great  good  of  conversation  is,  that  it 
fills  all  gaps,  supplies  all  deficiencies,  and 
makes  you  forgetful  of  particulars.  It  is 
recorded  of  the  wife  of  poor  Scarron  that,  The  wife  oj 
during  dinner,  the  servant  slipped  to  her 
side,  "  Please,  madame,  one  anecdote  more, 
for  there  is  no  roast  to-day."  Who  does 
not  remember  occasions  when  the  feast 
was  the  least  part  of  the  entertainment  ? 
when  the  flavor  of  the  delicate  and  rich 
dishes  was  lost  in  the  higher  satisfaction 
of  the  intellectual  palate  ? 

The  foundation  of  all  good  conversation 
is  what  the  poet  Rowe  pronounces  the 
foundation  of  all  the  virtues — good  nature: 
"which  is  friendship  between  man  and 
man  ;  good  breeding  in  courts ;  charity  in 
religion ;  and  the  true  spring  of  all  be- 
neficence in  general."  Censoriousness  is 


12  In  a  Club  Corner 

almost  sure  to  have  its  origin  in  ill-nature 
Censorious-  or  self-reproach.  In  such  case  those  who 
indulge  in  it  (to  quote  Lady  Blessington) 
"consider  the  severity  of  their  censures 
on  the  failings  of  others  as  an  atonement 
for  their  own." 

It  is  well  to  remember  the  saying,  that 
nature  has  created  man  with  two  ears  and 
but  one  tongue.  "  I  did  not  hear  what  you 
said,"  ejaculated  an  exuberant  talker,  by 
way  of  contradiction.  "  I  don't  know  how 
you  should  have  heard  it,"  was  the  reply, 
"for  you  never  hear  anything."  "I  am 
very  fond  of  society,"  said  Madame  du 
Deffand  ;  "  all  the  world  listens  to  me,  and 
I  listen  to  nobody."  Liszt  is  reported  as 
saying  of  George  Eliot :  "  Ugly  though  she 
was,  Miss  Evans  had  a  charm,  and  knew 
George  how  to  captivate  those  around  her."  At 
George  times  her  way  of  listening  reminded  him 
of  George  Sand.  She  seemed  to  absorb 
like  a  sponge  everything  she  saw  and 
heard.  Her  long,  ill-favored  face  put  on 
an  expression  of  attention  so  rapt  that 
it  became  positively  interesting.  George 
Sand,  he  said,  caught  her  butterfly  and 
tamed  it  in  her  box  by  giving  it  grass  and 
flowers  —  this  was  the  love  period.  Then 
she  stuck  her  pin  into  it  when  it  struggled 


In  a  Club  Corner  13 

—  this  was  the  conge,  and  it  always  came 
from  her.  Afterward  she  vivisected  it, 
stuffed  it,  and  added  it  to  her  collection 
of  heroes  for  novels.  It  was  this  traffic 
of  souls  which  had  given  themselves  up 
unreservedly  to  her  which  eventually  dis- 
gusted him  with  her.  By  the  faculty  of 
attentively  listening  to  what  others  had 
to  say,  Madame  Roland  affirms  that  she 
made  more  friends  than  by  any  remarks 
she  ever  made  of  her  own.  Judicious 
silence  is  one  of  the  great  social  virtues. 
Quaint  old  Burton  tells  of  a  woman  who, 
hearing  one  of  the  gossips  by  chance  com- 
plain of  her  husband's  impatience,  told  her 
an  excellent  remedy  for  it,  and  gave  her 
withal  a  glass  of  water,  which  when  he 
brawled  she  should  hold  still  in  her  mouth, 
and  that  toties  quoties,  as  often  as  he  chid  : 
she  did  so  twice  or  three  times  with  good 
success,  and  at  length,  seeing  her  neighbor, 
gave  her  great  thanks  for  it,  and  would 
needs  know  the  ingredients  :  she  told  her  in 
brief  what  it  was  ;  fair  water,  and  no  more  ; 
for  it  was  not  the  water,  but  her  silence  saencetiu 
which  performed  the  cure. 

Those  who  have  been  renowned  for  their 
powers  of  conversation  were  constantly 
exercising  them.  Addison  would  pass 


1 4  In  a  Club  Corner 

seven  or  eight  hours  a  day  in  coffee-houses 
and  taverns.  Johnson  told  Bosvvell  that 
his  habit  was  to  go  out  at  four  o'clock  in 
the  afternoon  and  not  to  return  till  two  in 
the  morning.  A  great  time  for  these  great 
men  to  spend  in  talk  Lady  Mary  Wortley 
Montagu  declared  Addison  was  the  best 
company  in  the  world ;  and  Pope  confessed 
that  his  great  compeer's  conversation  had 
something  in  it  more  charming  than  he 
had  found  in  any  other  man.  "  But  this," 
the  poet  said,  "  was  only  when  familiar : 
before  strangers,  or  perhaps  a  single  stran- 
ger, he  preserved  his  dignity  by  a  stiff 
silence."  It  is  stated  that  whenever  Bos- 
well  came  into  a  company  where  Horace 
Walpole  was,  Walpole  would  throw  back 
his  head,  purse  up  his  mouth  very  signifi- 
cantly, and  not  speak  a  word  while  Boswell 
remained. 

The  wits  of  Horace  Walpole's  day,  Sir 
George  Selwyn,  Sir  Hanbury  Williams, 
Bubb  Dodington,  Charles  Townshend, 
and  their  associates,  it  is  difficult  to  judge 
of  at  the  distance  of  more  than  a  century 
from  their  times.  But  it  would  appear 
their  wit  was  of  the  social,  unpremeditated, 
conversational  character,  in  which  Sydney 
Smith,  Talleyrand,  Hook,  and  Barham  par- 


In  a  Club  Corner  75 

ticularly  excelled.  Sydney  Smith,  it  is 
known,  could  not  make  the  smallest  re- 
mark without  provoking  a  laugh  ;  and  even 
when  he  said  grace,  the  young  lady  who 
sat  next  to  him  said,  "  You  always  are  so 
amusing."  His  compliment  to  Lady  D.  is 
worth  remembering.  "  She  seems,"  he 
said,  "  to  be  a  very  sensible  and  very  worthy 
person.  I  must  do  her  the  justice  to  say 
that  when  my  jokes  are  explained  to  her, 
and  she  has  leisure  to  reflect  upon  them, 
she  laughs  very  heartily." 

Everybody  has  heard  of  Hook's  famous  Hook. 
reply  when,  after  having  returned  from  the 
colonies,  where  he  was  in  an  official  posi- 
tion, under  suspicion  of  peculation,  a  friend 
meeting  him  said,  "  Why,  hello,  Hook  !  I 
did  not  know  you  were  in  England.  What 
has  brought  you  back  again?"  "  Some- 
thing wrong  about  the  chest,"  replied  the 
imperturbable  wit. 

It  has  been  remarked  upon  as  singular 
that  one  known  to  have  been  habitually  as 
silent  as  Talleyrand  should  have  left  a  Talleyrand 
reputation  for  brilliancy  in  the  social  circle. 
From  his  habit  of  nearly  closing  his  eyes  — 
a  habit  that  grew  upon  him  as  he  advanced 
in  years  —  he  could  scarcely  have  appeared 
even  an  attentive  or  interested  listener. 


1 6  In  a  Club  Corner 

His  drooped  eyelids,  and  the  smile  on  his 
face,  would  rather  seemingly  have  indicated 
a  mind  occupied  with  some  dreamy  thoughts 
of  his  own.  Yet,  when,  occasionally,  half 
rising  from  his  seat,  or  changing  his  posi- 
tion, he  opened  his  eyes  on  the  company, 
Maiicuna  with  a  glance  full  of  malice,  but  not  of  ill- 
matured.  nature,  and  uttered  some  piquant  remark 
or  amusing  bon  mot  (which  he  had,  doubt- 
less, been  meditating),  he  gave,  in  a  few 
words,  a  concentrated  reply,  as  it  were,  to 
the  whole  conversation.  And  usually  it 
was  so  fit,  so  appropriate,  that  it  fixed  itself 
in  the  memory  of  his  hearers ;  unlike  the 
wordy  declamation  which,  as  a  noise  in  the 
air,  floated  away  from  Madame  de  StaeTs 
admiring  audience,  without  leaving  a  trace 
of  its  meaning  in  the  mind. 

Brougttanfi  Lord  Brougham,  who  speaks  from  a 
personal  and  delightful  intimacy,  eulogizes 
Talleyrand's  conversation :  "  Of  his  truly 
inimitable  conversation,  and  the  mixture 
of  strong  masculine  sense,  and  exquisitely 
witty  turns  in  which  it  abounds  —  inde- 
pendently of  the  interest,  and  the  solid 
value  which  it  derived  from  a  rich  fund  of 
anecdote,  delivered  in  the  smallest  number 
possible  of  the  most  happy  and  most  ap- 
propriate words  possible,  it  would  indeed 


In  a  Club  Corner  // 

be  difficult  to  convey  an  adequate  idea. 
His  own  powers  of  picturesque,  and  won- 
derfully condensed  expression,  would  be 
hardly  sufficient  to  present  a  portrait  of  its  '*' 
various  and  striking  beauties.  Simple  and 
natural,  yet  abounding  in  the  most  sudden 
and  unexpected  turns;  full  of  point,  yet 
evidently  the  inspiration  of  the  moment, 
and  therefore  more  absolutely  to  the  pur- 
pose than  if  they  had  been  the  labored 
effort  of  a  day's  reflection  —  a  single  word 
often  performing  the  office  of  sentences, 
nay,  a  tone  not  unfrequently  rendering 
many  words  superfluous  —  always  the 
phrase  most  perfectly  suitable  selected,  and 
its  place  most  happily  chosen  —  all  this  is 
literally  correct,  and  no  picture  of  fancy, 
but  a  mere  abridgment  and  transcript  of 
the  marvelous  original ;  yet  it  falls  very 
short  of  conveying  its  lineaments,  and  fails 
still  more  to  render  its  coloring  and  its 
shades.  For  there  was  a  constant  gayety 
of  manner  which  had  the  mirthful  aspect 
of  good-humor,  even  on  the  eve  or  on  the 
morrow  of  some  flash  in  which  his  witty 
raillery  had  wrapped  a  subject  or  a  person 
in  ridicule,  or  of  some  torrent  in  which  his 
satire  had  descended  instantaneous  but 
destructive ;  there  was  an  archness  of 


i8  In  a  Club  Corner 

malice  when  more  than  ordinary  execution 
must  be  done,  that  defied  the  pencil  of  the 
describer,  as  it  did  the  attempts  of  the 
imitator ;  there  were  manners  the  most 
perfect  in  ease,  in  grace,  in  flexibility ; 
there  was  the  voice  of  singular  depth  and 
modulation,  and  the  countenance  alike 
fitted  to  express  earnest  respect,  unosten- 
tatious contempt,  and  bland  complacency ; 
and  all  this  must  have  been  really  wit- 
nessed to  be  accurately  understood." 

"His  circumspection,"  said  Napoleon, 
"  was  extreme.  He  treated  his  friends  as 
if  they  might,  in  future,  become  his  ene- 
mies, and  he  behaved  to  his  enemies  as  if 
they  might,  some  time  or  other,  become 
his  friends.  Mademoiselle  Raucourt,  a 
celebrated  actress,  described  him  with 
great  truth.  '  If  you  ask  him  a  question,' 
said  she,  '  he  is  an  iron  chest,  whence  you 
cannot  extract  a  syllable;  but  if  you  ask 
him  nothing,  you  will  soon  be  unable  to 
stop  his  mouth,  he  will  become  a  regular 
Hiscounte-  gossip.'  The  countenance  of  Talleyrand 
is  so  immovable  that  nothing  can  be  read 
in  it.  Lannes  and  Murat  used  jocularly  to 
say  of  him,  that  if  while  he  was  speaking 
to  you,  some  one  should  come  behind  and 
give  him  a  kick,  his  countenance  would 
betray  nothing." 


In  a  Club  Corner  19 

Macaulay  met  Talleyrand  at  Holland 
House,  and  had  the  pleasure  of  listening 
for  an  hour  and  a  half  to  his  conversation. 
The  great  Frenchman  was  then  an  old 
man.  "He  is  certainly,"  said  Macaulay, 
in  a  letter  to  his  sister,  "  the  greatest  curi- 
osity that  I  ever  fell  in  with.  His  head  is 
sunk  down  between  two  high  shoulders. 
One  of  his  feet  is  hideously  distorted.  His 
face  is  as  pale  as  that  of  a  corpse,  and 
wrinkled  to  a  frightful  degree.  His  eyes 
have  an  odd  glassy  stare  quite  peculiar  to 
them.  His  hair,  thickly  powdered  and 
pomatumed,  hangs  down  his  shoulders  on 
each  side  as  straight  as  a  pound  of  tallow 
candles.  His  conversation,  however,  soon 
makes  you  forget  his  ugliness  and  infirmi- 
ties. There  is  a  poignancy  without  effort  Poignancy 
in  all  that  he  says,  which  reminded  me  a  effort. 
little  of  the  character  which  the  wits  of 
Johnson's  circle  give  of  Beauclerk.  He 
told  several  stories  about  the  political  men 
of  France  :  not  of  any  great  value  in  them- 
selves :  but  his  way  of  telling  them  was 
beyond  all  praise ;  concise,  pointed,  and 
delicately  satirical." 

Coleridge  was  one  of  those  enthusiasts  Coleridge. 
whose  minds  are  absorbed  by  the  doctrines 
they    have    last    espoused.     Southey    de- 


2O  In  a  Club  Corner 

scribes  him  as  repeating  the  same  thing  to 
every  fresh  company  ;  and  if  they  were  at 
seven  parties  in  the  week,  his  set  speech 
was  delivered  seven  times.  His  pauses 
occurred  at  intervals  of  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  and  he  did  not  suffer  the  second 
personage  in  the  dialogue  to  thrust  in  more 
than  a  few  hasty  words  before  he  launched 
anew  upon  his  loquacious  discourse. 

Two  persons,  Underwood  and  McKenzie, 
who  had  many  opportunities  of  observing 
Coleridge,  are  reported  by  Dilke  (long  the 
editor  of  the  London  Athenaeum,  and  the 
personal  friend  of  Keats,  Lamb,  Procter, 
etc.)  to  have  arrived  at  the  conclusion 
that  there  was  more  humbug  in  Coleridge 
than  in  any  man  that  was  ever  heard  of. 
Underwood  was  one  day  transcribing  some- 
thing for  Coleridge,  when  a  visitor  ap- 
peared. After  the  commonplaces,  Cole- 
ridge took  up  a  little  book  lying  upon  the 
table,  and  said,  "  By-the-bye,  I  casually  took 
up  this  little  book  this  morning,  and  was 
quite  enchanted  with  a  little  sonnet  I  found 
there."  He  then  read  off  a  blank  verse 
translation,  and  entered  into  a  long  critique 
upon  its  merits.  The  same  story,  the  same 
translation,  the  same  critique,  were  re- 
peated five  times  in  that  day  to  different 


In  a  Club  Corner  21 

visitors,  without  one  word  being  altered. 
Mr.  Underwood  said  that  every  one  of  his 
famous  winning  conversations  was  got  up.  Co*versa- 

-1-1   .       .      .   .  ,  .    .  -          ,    tions  got  uf. 

This  habit  of  repetition  was  not  confined 
to  his  conversation.  In  every  one  of  his 
writings,  says  his  nephew,  there  are  repe- 
titions, either  literal  or  substantial,  of  pas- 
sages to  be  found  in  some  others  of  those 
writings  ;  and  there  are  several  particular 
positions  and  reasonings  which  he  con- 
sidered of  vital  importance,  reiterated  in 
the  Friend,  the  Literary  Life,  the  Lay  Ser- 
mons, the  Aids  to  Reflection,  and  the 
Church  and  State.  He  was  always  deepen- 
ing and  widening  the  foundation,  and  cared 
not  how  often  he  used  the  same  stone. 

In  illustration  of  Coleridge's  unfailing 
talk,  Procter  gives  an  account  of  one  of  his 
days,  when  he  was  present.  He  had  come 
from  Highgate  to  London,  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  consulting  a  friend  about  his 
son  Hartley  ("our  dear  Hartley"),  for 
whom  he  expressed,  and  no  doubt  felt, 
much  anxiety.  He  arrived  about  one  or 
two  o'clock,  in  the  midst  of  a  conversation 
which  immediately  began  to  interest  him. 
He  struck  into  the  middle  of  the  talk  very 
soon,  and  "  held  the  ear  of  the  house " 
until  dinner  made  its  appearance  about 


In  a  Club  Corner 


Talked 
without  in- 
terruption. 


His  fir  each- 
ing  tone. 


four  o'clock.  He  then  talked  all  through 
the  dinner,  all  the  afternoon,  all  the  even- 
ing, with  scarcely  a  single  interruption. 
He  expatiated  on  this  subject  and  on  that ; 
he  drew  fine  distinctions ;  he  made  subtle 
criticisms.  He  descended  to  anecdotes, 
critical,  logical,  historical  ;  he  dealt  with 
law,  medicine,  and  divinity,  until  at  last, 
five  minutes  before  eight  o'clock,  the  ser- 
vant came  in  and  announced  that  the 
Highgate  stage  was  at  the  corner  of  the 
street,  and  was  waiting  to  convey  Mr. 
Coleridge  home.  Coleridge  immediately 
started  up,  oblivious  of  all  time,  and  said, 

in  a  hurried  voice,  "  My  dear  F ,  I  will 

come  to  you  some  other  day,  and  talk  to 
you  about  our  dear  Hartley."  He  had 
quite  forgotten  his  son  and  everybody 
else,  in  the  delight  of  having  such  an  en- 
raptured audience. 

His  preaching  tone  is  well-known,  and 
has  often  been  described.  Lamb  and 
Coleridge  were  once  talking  together  on 
the  incidents  of  Coleridge's  early  life,  when 
he  was  beginning  his  career  in  the  Church, 
and  Coleridge  was  describing  some  of  the 
facts  in  his  usual  tone,  when  he  paused, 
and  said :  "  Pray,  Mr.  Lamb,  did  you  ever 
hear  me  preach  ?  "  "  Damme,"  said  Lamb, 
"I  never  heard  you  do  anything  else." 


In  a  Club  Corner  23 

Wordsworth  was  to  breakfast  with  Proc- 
ter one  morning,  but  being  much  after 
the  appointed  time,  he  excused  himself  by 
stating  that  he  and  a  friend  had  been  to  see  cuse. 
Coleridge,  who  had  detained  them  by  one 
continuous  flow  of  talk.  "  How  was  it  you 
called  so  early  ? "  inquired  Rogers.  "  Oh ! " 
said  Wordsworth,  "we  are  going  to  dine 
with  him  this  evening,  and" —  "And," 
said  Rogers,  taking  up  the  sentence,  "you 
wanted  to  take  '  the  sting '  out  of  him  be- 
forehand." 

Macaulay  was  met  by  Crabb  Robinson  at  Maca*iay. 
a  dinner-party,  about  the  time  the  former 
began  to  be  famous.  The  barrister  de- 
scribes him  in  his  diary  as  "  very  eloquent 
and  cheerful.  Overflowing  with  words, 
and  not  poor  in  thought.  He  seems  a 
correct  as  well  as  a  full  man.  He  showed 
a  minute  knowledge  of  subjects  not  in-  A 
troduced  by  himself."  He  was  a  favorite 
at  Holland  House.  Lady  Holland,  we  are 
told,  listened  to  him  with  unwonted  defer- 
ence, and  scolded  him  with  a  circumspec- 
tion that  was  in  itself  a  compliment. 
Rogers  spoke  of  him  with  friendliness,  and 
to  him  with  positive  affection.  Sharp 
treated  him  with  great  kindness  and  con- 
sideration. For  the  space  of  three  seasons 


24  In  a  Club  Corner 

he  dined  out  almost  nightly,  and  spent 
many  of  his  Sundays  in  the  suburban  man- 
sions of  his  friends.  Lord  Carlisle,  in  his 
journal,  mentions  having  met  Macaulay  at 
a  dinner.  "Never,"  he  says,  "were  such 
Torrents  of  torrents  of  good  talk  as  burst  and  sput- 
tered over  from  Macaulay  and  Hallam." 
He  refers  also  to  a  breakfast  with  Macaulay 
in  his  rooms  at  the  top  of  the  Albany  — 
their  walls  covered  with  seven  to  ten  thou- 
sand books.  Macaulay's  conversation,  he 
says,  "  ranged  the  world."  "  To  remember 
his  talk,"  says  Thackeray,  "  is  to  wonder : 
to  think  not  only  of  the  treasures  he  had 
in  his  memory,  but  of  the  trifles  he  had 
stored  there,  and  could  produce  with  equal 
readiness.  Every  man  who  has  known 
him  has  his  story  regarding  that  astonish- 
ing memory.  It  may  be  that  he  was  not 
ill-pleased  that  you  should  recognize  it ; 
but  to  those  prodigious  intellectual  feats, 
which  were  so  easy  to  him,  who  would 
grudge  his  tribute  of  homage  ? " 

What  he  said  of  Churchill  was  perhaps 
applicable  to  himself,  —  "There  was  too 
great  a  tendency  to  say  with  willing  ve- 
hemence whatever  could  be  eloquently 
said : "  he  must  needs,  it  seems,  be  ever 
talking  or  writing  somebody  or  something 


In  a  Club  Corner  25 

up  or  down.  Hayward  said,  "  Give  Lord 
Macaulay  a  hint,  a  fancy,  an  insulated  fact  cri 
or  phrase,  a  scrap  of  a  journal,  or  the  tag 
end  of  a  song,  and  on  it,  by  the  abused 
prerogative  of  genius,  he  would  construct 
a  theory  of  national  or  personal  character, 
which  should  confer  undying  glory  or  in- 
flict indelible  disgrace." 

From  all  accounts,  there  must  have  been 
a  good  deal  of  the  declamatory,  the  aggres- 
sive, the  irrepressible,  the  overwhelming 
in  the  manner  and  conversation  of  Madame  Madame <u 
de  Stael.  Byron  said  she  ought  to  have 
been  a  man.  Heine  called  her  "  a  hurri- 
cane in  a  petticoat."  No  wonder  Napoleon 
hated  her  and  hunted  her.  She  did  con- 
sent to  be  silent,  to  wait,  to  suffer  the  loss 
of  all  things  dear  to  her  ;  but  she  refused 
a  word  of  homage  to  power.  The  Minis- 
ter of  Police  (Fouche)  demanded  only  the 
insertion  of  a  flattery  in  Corinne.  She  an- 
swered that  she  was  ready  to  take  out  of  it 
anything  offensive,  but  not  to  add  anything 
to  make  her  court  to  the  government. 

"  She  was  born  to  be  a  damper,  this 
young  woman  !  "  exclaimed  Gabriel  Varden 
of  Miggs,  his  old  servant  (in  Barnaby 
Rudge).  In  the  souvenirs  of  Madame  le 
Brun  she  recites  that,  while  traveling  in 


In  a  Club  Corner 


ft  ex 

tingvisher 


The  ikeefi 
nil  dirty. 


Madame  u  d.  carriage  in  Italy  with  a  gentleman  whom 
circumstances  brought  in  her  way,  she  had 
the  following  experience  :  "  As  we  were 
crossing  the  Pontine  marshes  I  perceived 
a  shepherd  seated  on  the  bank  of  a  canal, 
whilst  his  sheep  browsed  in  a  field  car- 
peted with  flowers,  beyond  which  one 
could  see  the  sea  and  Cape  Circee.  '  This 
would  make  a  charming  picture,'  I  said  to 
my  companion — 'the  shepherd,  the  sheep, 
the  prairie,  and  the  sea.'  'These  sheep 
are  all  dirty,'  he  replied ;  '  you  should  see 
the  English  sheep.'  Again,  on  the  road 
to  Tenadna,  I  saw  on  the  left  the  line  of 
the  Apennines  surrounded  by  superb 
clouds  that  the  setting  sun  had  lightened ; 
I  could  not  refrain  from  expressing  my 
admiration.  'These  clouds  only  promise 
us  rain  to-morrow,'  said  my  companion." 
Farther  along  on  the  journey,  she  adds  : 
"  The  road  to  Naples  is  charming  ;  here 
and  there  beautiful  trees  are  seen,  and 
the  hedges  are  masses  of  wild  roses  and 
scented  myrtles.  I  was  enchanted,  though 
my  companion  said  he  preferred  the  sunny, 
fine  slopes  of  Bordeaux,  which  promised 
good  wine."  Madame  le  Brun  called  this 
gentleman  her  "extinguisher,"  and  soon  had 
the  satisfaction  of  saying  good-by  to  him. 


Tkesuperl 
tloudi  only 

fromising 

rain. 


In  a  Club  Corner  27 

In  Gil  Bias  is  an  allusion  to  a  dozen  people  A  scene  from 
sitting  at  supper.  It  was  whimsical  enough  : 
the  whole  party  plied  their  knives  and  forks 
without  speaking  a  word,  except  one  man, 
who  talked  incessantly,  right  or  wrong,  and 
made  up  for  the  silence  of  the  rest  by  his 
eternal  babble.  He  affected  to  be  a  wit,  to 
tell  a  good  story,  and  took  great  pains  to 
make  the  good  folks  merry  by  his  puns  ;  and 
accordingly  they  did  laugh  most  inextin- 
guishably ;  but  it  was  at  him,  not  with  him. 

"  If  you  are  ever  at  a  loss  to  support  a 
flagging  conversation,"  says  Leigh  Hunt, 
"introduce  the  subject  of  eating."  No  The  reject 
man  is  ignorant  or  reticent  on  that  inter-  ofeatins- 
esting  subject.  Nor  does  he  fail  to  be  in- 
telligent and  loquacious  when  his  neigh- 
bors are  to  be  discussed.  Those  persons, 
it  has  been  said,  who  from  folly  or  from 
carelessness  tell  one  friend  what  another 
friend  says  of  him  would  do  well  to  con- 
sider the  observation,  true  or  not,  of  the 
"acute  and  amiable  Pascal  :  "  All  men  natu-  A 


rally  hate  each  other.  I  am  certain  that  <™T" 
if  they  were  to  know  accurately  what  they 
occasionally  had  said  of  one  another,  there 
would  not  be  four  persons  in  the  world 
who  could  long  preserve  their  friendship 
for  one  another." 


28  In  a  Club  Corner 

Conversa-         As  to  too  much  of  the  conversation  in 

rw*»t.  "  sick-rooms,  Dr.  Holmes  in  his  Autocrat  re- 
marks :  "  As  you  go  down  the  social  scale, 
you  reach  a  point  at  length  where  the  com- 
mon talk  in  sick-rooms  is  of  churchyards 
and  sepulchres,  and  a  kind  of  perpetual 
vivisection  is  forever  carried  on  upon  the 
person  of  the  miserable  sufferer." 

The  same  witty  and  wise  genius,  in  the 
Poet  at  the  Breakfast-Table,  says :  "  Peo- 
ple you  talk  with  every  day  have  got  to 

Feeders/or  have  feeders  for  their  minds,  as  much  as 
the  stream  that  turns  a  mill-wheel  has.  It 
is  n't  one  little  rill  that 's  going  to  keep  the 
float  boards  turning  round.  Take  a  dozen 
of  the  brightest  men  you  can  find  in  the 
brightest  city,  wherever  that  may  be,  and 
let  'em  come  together  once  a  month,  and 
you  '11  find  out  in  the  course  of  a  year  or 
two  the  ones  that  have  feeders  from  all  the 
hillsides.  Your  common  talkers,  that  ex- 
change the  gossip  of  the  day,  have  no  wheel 

w^h  of  the  in  particular  to  turn,  and  the  wash  of  the 
rain  as  it  runs  down  the  street  is  enough 
for  them." 

Truly  it  is  said  that,  cultivate  as  you 
will,  decree  as  you  will,  begild  with  titles, 
overload  with  privileges  and  possessions, 
there  is  among  men  but  one  genuine 


In  a  Club  Corner  29 

superiority,  the  superiority  of  mind,  —  a  superiority 
superiority  resulting  from  the  union  of  the  * 
higher  intellect  with  the  higher  feelings. 
"Through  life,"  says  Thackeray,  "Swift, 
somehow,  seems  always  to  be  alone. 
Goethe  was  so.  I  can't  fancy  Shakespeare 
otherwise.  The  giants  must  live  apart. 
The  kings  can  have  no  company.  .  .  . 
Looking  at  the  calm,  fair  face  and  clear 
countenance  of  Addison,  —  those  chiseled 
features  pure  and  cold,  —  I  can't  but  fancy 
that  this  great  man  was  also  one  of  the 
lonely  ones  of  the  world.  Such  men  have  r^ianeiy 
very  few  equals,  and  they  don't  herd  with  £52 
those.  It  is  in  the  nature  of  such  lords  of 
intellect  to  be  solitary  —  they  are  in  the 
world,  but  not  of  it ;  and  our  minor  strug- 
gles, brawls,  successes,  pass  under  them." 
It  always  seemed  to  Holmes  as  if  Emerson 
looked  upon  this  earth  very  much  as  a  vis- 
itor from  another  planet  would  look  on  it. 
He  was  interested,  and  to  some  extent 
curious  about  it,  but  it  was  not  the  first 
spheroid  he  had  been  acquainted  with,  by 
any  means.  Richter  has  said,  the  more 
powerful  and  intellectual  and  great  two 
men  are,  so  much  the  less  can  they  bear 
each  other  under  one  ceiling,  as  great  in- 
sects, which  live  on  fruits,  are  unsocial 


^o  In  a  Club  Corner 

(for  example,  in  every  hazel-nut  there  sits 
only  one  chafer),  whereas  the  little  ones, 
which  live  only  on  leaves,  —  for  instance, 
the  leaf-lice,  — cleave  together  inseparably. 
Bums.  Some  one  said  of  Burns,  "  He  is  great  in 

verse,  greater  in  prose,  still  greater  in  con- 
versation." Eminent  people,  like  Robert- 
son the  historian,  ladies  of  rank,  like  the 
Duchess  of  Gordon,  and  the  servants  at  the 
inns,  who,  if  Burns  came  in  late,  would 
"get  out  of  bed  to  hear  him  talk,"  testify 
to  his  powers.  We  have  an  account  of  a 
call  that  two  Englishmen  made  upon  him. 
They  found  him  fishing.  He  received 
them  with  cordiality,  and  asked  them  to 
A  dinner  share  his  humble  dinner.  He  was  in  his 
foet.  happiest  mood,  and  the  charm  of  his  con- 

versation was  altogether  fascinating.  He 
ranged  over  a  variety  of  topics,  illuminat- 
ing whatever  he  touched.  He  related  the 
tales  of  his  infancy  and  youth  ;  he  recited 
some  of  his  gayest  and  some  of  his  tender- 
est  poems  ;  in  the  wildest  of  the  strains  of 
his  mirth  he  threw  in  some  touches  of 
melancholy,  and  spread  around  him  the 
electric  emotions  of  his  powerful  nature. 
The  Highland  whiskey  improved  in  its 
flavor ;  the  marble  bowl  was  again  and 
again  emptied  and  replenished  ;  the  guests 


In  a  Club  Corner  31 

of  the  poet  forgot  the  flight  of  time  and 
the  dictates  of  prudence  ;  at  the  hour  of 
midnight  they  lost  their  way  to  Dumfries, 
and  could  scarcely  distinguish  it  when 
assisted  by  the  morning's  dawn. 

"  Madame  Recamier,"  said  De  Tocque- 
ville  (in  conversation  with  Mr.  Senior), 
"was  the  delight  of  Paris,  but  she  said 
very  little.  She  listened  and  smiled  in- 
telligently, and  from  time  to  time  threw 
in  a  question  or  a  remark  to  show  that  she 
understood  you.  From  long  habit  she 
knew  what  were  the  subjects  on  which  each 
guest  showed  to  most  advantage,  and  she 
put  him  upon  them.  The  last,  indeed,  was 
not  difficult,  for  the  guest  knew  better 
even  than  she  did  his  forte,  and  seized  the 
thread  that  led  to  it.  It  was  only  by  infer- 
ence, only  by  inquiring  why  it  was  that 
one  talked  more  easily  at  her  house  than 
elsewhere,  that  one  discovered  the  perfec- 
tion of  her  art."  At  another  time  he  said 
to  Mr.  Senior,  "I  knew  well  Madame  Re- 
camier. Few  traces  of  her  former  beauty 
remained  ;  but  we  were  all  her  lovers  and 
her  slaves.  The  talent,  labor,  and  skill, 
which  she  wasted  on  her  salon,  would  have 
gained  and  governed  an  empire.  She  was 
virtuous,  if  it  be  virtuous  to  persuade  every 


$2  In  a  Club  Corner 

one  of  a  dozen  men  to  believe  that  you 
wish  to  favor  him,  though  some  circum- 
stances always  seemed  to  prevent  your 
doing  so.  Every  friend  thought  himself 
Little  dis-  preferred.  She  governed  us  by  little  dis- 

tinctiom.        \  J 

tmctions,  by  letting  one  man  come  five 
minutes  before  the  others,  or  stay  five 
minutes  after,  just  as  Louis  XIV.  raised 
one  courtier  to  the  seventh  heaven  by 
giving  him  the  taper  at  night,  and  another 
by  taking  his  shirt  from  him  in  the  morn- 
ing. As  I  have  remarked,  the  Madame 
said  little,  but  knew  what  each  man's  forte 
was,  and  placed  from  time  to  time  a  mot 
which  led  him  to  it.  If  anything  were 
peculiarly  well  said,  her  face  brightened. 
You  saw  that  her  attention  was  always 
active  and  always  intelligent." 
Matkeais.  Charles  Mathews,  the  elder,  must  have 
been  a  delightful  conversationalist  in  his 
way.  Perhaps  no  one  ever  existed  who  car- 
ried more  genius  into  his  jesting.  Every- 
thing and  everybody  seemed  imitable  by 
him.  What  a  dinner  that  must  have  been 
where  Scott  and  Byron  and  Mathews  sat 
down  together  —  an  occasion  and  event  of 
so  much  importance  as  to  have  been  spe- 
cially noted  by  each  one  of  them.  Lockhart 
says  that  Sir  Walter  recorded  it  in  his 


In  a  Club  Corner  33 

note-book  as  "the  most  interesting  day 
he  ever  spent."  The  great  actor's  ruling  Ruling  ten. 
tendency  was  conspicuous  throughout  the 
whole  of  his  life.  It  is  said  that  the  attend- 
ant in  his  last  illness  intended  to  give  his 
patient  some  medicine ;  but  a  few  moments 
afterward  it  was  discovered  that  the  medi- 
cine was  nothing  but  ink,  which  had  been 
taken  from  the  vial  by  mistake,  and  his 
friend  exclaimed,  "  Good  Heavens,  Math- 
ews,  I  have  given  you  ink!"  "Never 
mind,  my  boy,"  said  Mathews,  faintly ; 
"I  '11  swallow  a  bit  of  blotting-paper." 

Diplomatists  are  thought  to  be  dissem- 
blers, though  sometimes  very  remarkable 
for  their  frankness.  Count  Cavour  and  cavouranet 
Prince  Bismarck  may  be  cited  as  instances. 
Once  when  the  Prussian  envoy  at  Turin, 
astonished  at  Cavour's  freedom  of  speech, 
was  searching  for  some  hidden  meaning 
in  his  words,  Cavour  replied  quickly,  "  Do 
not  deceive  yourself.  I  say  only  what  I 
think.  As  for  the  habit  attributed  to  di- 
plomatists of  disguising  their  thoughts,  it 
is  one  of  which  I  never  avail  myself."  He 
used  often  to  say  laughingly  to  his  friends, 
"  Now  I  have  found  out  the  art  of  deceiv- 
ing diplomatists  :  I  speak  the  truth,  and  I 
am  certain  they  will  not  believe  me." 


34  In  a  Club  Corner 

cariyie.  Thirty  odd  years  ago,  Carlyle,  as  a  so- 

cial power,  or  a  social  plague,  was  already 
troubling  the  still  surface  of  London  draw- 
ing-room life.  "  What  is  his  talk  like  ? " 
asked  Miss  Berry  of  her  friend ;  and 
Kinglake  answered,  "  Ezekiel."  Thack- 
eray said,  "  The  man  is  a  bully,  but  he  can 
be  silenced  by  persiflage  ; "  a  remark  that 
is  interesting  in  connection  with  Carlyle's 
recorded  verdict  of  Thackeray. 

Scott.  Scott  was  a  fine  humorist  in  conversa- 

tion. Irving  has  preserved  a  good  speci- 
men of  his. talk.  One  morning  at  break- 
fast, when  Dominie  Thomson,  the  tutor, 
was  present,  Scott  was  going  on  with  great 
glee  to  relate  an  anecdote  of  the  Laird  of 
Macnab,  "  who,  poor  fellow,"  premised  he, 
"is  dead  and  gone."  "Why,  Mr.  Scott," 
exclaimed  his  lady,  "  Macnab 's  not  dead, 
is  he  ?  "  "  Faith,  my  dear,"  replied  Scott, 
with  humorous  gravity,  "  if  he 's  not  dead, 
they  have  done  him  great  injustice,  for 
they've  buried  him."  The  joke  passed 
harmless  and  unnoticed  by  Mrs.  Scott,  but 
hit  the  poor  Dominie  just  as  he  had  raised 
a  cup  of  tea  to  his  lips,  causing  a  burst  of 
laughter  which  sent  half  of  the  contents 
about  the  table.  Hogg  said  that  Scott's 
anecdotes  were  without  end  ;  he  was  al- 


In  a  Club  Corner  35 

most  certain  they  were  all  made  off-hand, 
as  he  never  heard  one  of  them  either  before 
or  after. 

Lamb  was  present  at  a  party  of  North  Lamb. 
Britons,  where  a  son  of  Burns  was  ex- 
pected, and  happened  to  drop  a  "  silly  ex- 
pression "  (in  his  South  British  way),  that 
he  wished  it  were  the  father  instead  of  the 
son,  —  when  four  of  them  started  up  at 
once  to  inform  him  that  "  that  was  impos- 
sible, because  he  was  dead."  An  imprac- 
ticable wish  was  more  than  they  could 
conceive. 

"  What  sort  of  a  man  was  Douglas  Jer- 


rold  ?  "  was  asked  of  Mr.  Addey,  an  old 
London  publisher.  "  He  was  a  little  man," 
was  the  reply,  "  about  five  feet  high,  long 
hair,  prominent  cheek-bones,  a  keen  eye, 
and  his  form  a  little  bent,  and  he  looked 
up  at  you  with  a  comical  wag  of  his  head. 
I  knew  him  very  well.  He  was  really  kind- 
hearted  and  sympathetic,  but  he  was  so 
fond  of  fun  and  so  sarcastic  in  his  method 
that  he  sometimes  indulged  his  wit  at  the 
expense  of  other  people's  feelings.  Not 
many  got  ahead  of  him.  His  publishers, 
Bradbury  &  Evans,  who,  he  thought,  had 
treated  him  rather  shabbily,  gave  him  a 
couple  of  sucking  pigs,  which  he  took  out 


$6  In  a  Club  Corner 

to  his  suburban  cottage,  and  put  in  a  pen. 
He  named  them,  one  Bradbury  and  the 
other  Evans.  A  couple  of  months  after 
that,  his  publishers  came  out  and  dined 
with  him.  After  dinner  he  took  them  out 
and  showed  them  his  pigs,  and  said,  'I 
have  named  them  after  you,  gentlemen. 
They  are  growing  wonderfully,  and  I  be- 
lieve if  I  keep  them  they  will  grow  the 
greatest  hogs  in  Europe,  and  I  do  not  for- 
get the  donors.'  Jerrold's  conversation 
sparkled  with  epigrams,  and  no  man  ever 
laughed  more  heartily  at  his  own  jokes.  If 
you  heard  Douglas  Jerrold  roaring  with 
delight  and  holding  his  sides,  you  immedi- 
ately inferred  that  he  had  said  something. 
His  laugh  was  unaffected,  and  very  con- 
tagious. Like  all  literary  men,  he  was 
never  half  paid."  He  told  Addey  that  for 
his  great  comedy  of  Black -Eyed  Susan, 
which  still  holds  possession  of  the  stage, 
he  received  just  what  Milton  did  for  his 
Paradise  Lost  —  twenty-five  dollars  —  and 
the  publisher  made  fifteen  thousand  from 
it  the  first  year. 

"  Call  that  a  kind  man  ?"  said  an  actor, 
speaking  of  an  acquaintance ;  "  a  man  who 
is  away  from  his  family  and  never  sends 
them  a  farthing?  Call  that  kindness?" 


In  a  Club  Corner  37 

"  Yes ;  unremitting,"  replied  Jerrold.  ^" 
Speaking  of  patriotism,  he  said,  "  When 
a  man  has  nothing  in  the  world  to  lose, 
he  is  then  in  the  best  condition  to  sacri- 
fice for  the  public  good  everything  that 
is  his."  "They  say,"  he  said,  "a  parson 
first  invented  gunpowder,  but  one  cannot 
believe  it  till  one  is  married." 

There  is  a  story  of  Moore  asking  Rogers 
what  he  did  when  people  who  wanted  his 
autograph  requested  him  to  sign  a  sen- 
tence. "  Oh,  I  give  them,  '  111  -  gotten 
wealth  never  prospers,'  or  'Virtue  is  its 
own  reward;'"  "Then  the  more  shame 
for  you,"  Luttrell  broke  in,  "to  circulate 
such  delusions." 

The  wit  of  Dumas  has  been  pronounced  The  wit  of 
as  near  as  any  earthly  thing  may  be  to  the 
wit  of  heaven,  which,  by  the  inimitable 
Sydney  Smith,  was  called  lightning.  The 
story  of  his  parentage  is  well  known.  A 
certain  coxcomb,  wishing  to  mortify  the 
great  dramatist,  asked  him  point-blank  who 
was  his  father.  "A  mulatto,  sir,"  coldly 
replied  Dumas,  imperceptibly  divining  the 
intended  insult.  "  And  your  grandfather  ?  " 
"  A  negro,  sir."  "  And  your  great-grand- 
father ?  "  "  A  baboon,  sir  !  "  thundered 
Dumas  at  his  now  terrified  questioner  ;  "a 


38  In  a  Club  Corner 

baboon,  sir!  My  ancestry  begins  where 
yours  ends."  Wit  of  this  sort  strikes 
and  scathes  like  the  lightning.  It  bites 
and  crushes  like  a  vise.  Sugden  hated 
Brougham,  and  took  his  revenge  in  the 
A  famous  famous  bon  mot,  that  it  was  a  pity  he  did 

bon  mot. 

not  know  a  little  law,  and  then  he  would 
have  a  smattering  of  everything.  Lord 
Thurlow  was  storming  one  day  at  his  old 
valet,  who  thought  little  of  a  violence  with 
which  he  had  been  long  familiar,  and  "  Go 
to  the  devil,  do ! "  cried  the  enraged  master ; 
"Go,  I  say,  to  the  devil."  "Give  me  a 
character,  my  Lord,"  replied  the  fellow, 
dryly ;  "  people  like,  you  know,  to  have 

curran.  characters  from  their  acquaintances."  Cur- 
ran,  being  asked  what  an  Irish  gentleman, 
just  arrived  in  England,  could  mean  by 
perpetually  putting  out  his  tongue,  an- 
swered, "I  suppose  he's  trying  to  catch 
the  English  accent."  In  his  last  illness, 
his  physician  observing  in  the  morning 
that  he  seemed  to  cough  with  more  diffi- 
culty, he  answered,  "That  is  rather  sur- 
prising, as  I  have  been  practicing  all  night." 

Roger*.  Rogers  was  unceasingly  at  war  with 

Lady  Davy.  One  day  at  dinner  she 
called  across  the  table,  "  Now,  Mr.  Rogers, 
I  am  sure  you  are  talking  about  me." 


In  a  Club  Corner  39 

"  Lady  Davy,"  was  the  retort,  "  I  pass  my 
life  in  defending  you."  The  plea  which  he  A  pita  for 
advanced  for  his  bitterness  was,  in  itself, 
a  satire.  "They  tell  me  I  say  ill-natured 
things,"  he  observed,  in  his  slow,  quiet, 
deliberate  way.  "  I  have  a  very  weak 
voice  ;  if  I  did  not  say  ill-natured  things, 
no  one  would  hear  what  I  said."  He  told 
of  an  Englishman  and  a  Frenchman  who 
had  to  fight  a  duel.  That  they  might 
have  the  better  chance  of  missing  one 
another,  they  were  to  fight  in  a  dark  room. 
The  Englishman  fired  up  the  chimney,  and 
brought  down  the  Frenchman  !  "  When  I 
tell  this  story  in  Paris,"  observed  Rogers, 
"  I  put  the  Englishman  up  the  chimney." 


Every  one  at  all  familiar  with  the  writ- 
ings  of  Lord  Macaulay  remembers  the  oft- 
repeated  sentence  in  his  famous  tribute  to 
the  Catholic  Church  :  "  And  she  may  still 
exist  in  undiminished  vigor  when  some 
traveler  from  New  Zealand  shall,  in  the 
midst  of  a  vast  solitude,  take  his  stand  on 
a  broken  arch  of  London  Bridge  to  sketch 
the  ruins  of  St.  Paul's."  In  one  of  Horace 
Walpole's  letters  to  Sir  Horace  Mann, 
written  half  a  century  or  more  before,  may 
be  found  this  similar  sentence  :  "  At  last, 


40  In  a  Club  Corner 

some  curious  traveler  from  Lima  will  visit 
England,  and  give  a  description  of  the 
ruins  of  St.  Paul's,  like  the  editions  of  Baal- 
bee  and  Palmyra."  Every  reader  should 
be  familiar  with  that  most  remarkable  story 

A  Man       of  patriotism,  A  Man  without  a  Country. 

CM**?*  Madame  de  Genlis  in  her  Memoirs  refers 
to  the  work  of  M.  de  Ballange,  entitled  The 
Man  without  a  Name,  in  which  the  author 
painted  with  the  most  terrible  energy  all 
the  horrors  of  remorse  for  a  fearful  crime. 
"There  are  ideas,"  says  Landor,  "which 
necessarily  must  occur  to  minds  of  the 
like  magnitude  and  materials,  aspect  and 
temperature.  When  two  nations  are  in 
the  same  phasis,  they  will  excite  the  same 
humors,  and  produce  the  same  coincidences 

currufrr'f   and   combinations."     Coleridge's   sublime 

Hymn.  Hymn  before  Sunrise  in  the  Vale  of  Cha- 
mouni  has  been  pronounced  an  audacious 
plagiarism  from  a  German  poetess ;  but 
Coleridge,  in  the  generous  judgment  of 
the  critic,  did  his  plundering  grandly  ;  he 
was  like  the  white-headed  American  eagle, 
which  swoops  down  with  force  enough  to 
seize  the  whole  prey  from  his  fellow,  and 
soar  with  it  unmutilated  in  its  beak.  Fran- 
ces Anne  Kemble  in  Old  Woman's  Gossip 
preserves  a  charming  instance  of  naive 


In  a  Club  Corner  41 

ignorance  in  a  young  guardsman,  reduced 
by  the  enthusiasm  of  the  gay  society  of 

J  , 

London  into  going,  for  once,  to  see  a  play 
of  Shakespeare's.  After  sitting  dutifully 
through  some  scenes  in  silence,  he  turned 
to  a  fellow-guardsman,  who  was  painfully 
looking  and  listening  by  his  side,  with  the 
grave  remark,  "  I  say,  George,  dooced  odd 
play  this  ;  it  's  all  full  of  quotations."  The 
young  military  gentleman  had  occasionally, 
it  seems,  heard  Shakespeare  quoted,  and 
remembered  it.  "  What  is  a  great  man," 
asks  Emerson,  "  but  one  of  great  affinities, 
who  takes  up  into  himself  all  arts,  sciences, 
all  knowables,  as  his  food  ?  Every  book  is 
a  quotation  ;  and  every  house  is  a  quota- 
tion out  of  all  forests,  and  mines,  and  stone 
quarries  ;  and  every  man  is  a  quotation  Every  man 

f  111-  >»  -n          i  i     a  quotati*"*- 

from  all  his  ancestors.  "People  are  al- 
ways talking,"  said  Goethe,  "about  origi- 
nality ;  but  what  do  they  mean  ?  As  soon 
as  we  are  born,  the  world  begins  to  work 
upon  us,  and  this  goes  on  to  the  end." 
"  So  far  as  respects  my  own  taste,"  says 
the  author  of  Modern  Chivalry,  "  I  read 
with  great  pleasure  oftentimes  a  book 
which  has  not  a  single  idea  in  it  from  be- 
ginning to  end  except  in  the  quotations. 
The  only  question  that  is  made  by  me,  is 


42  In  a  Club  Corner 

the  quotation  from  a  good  author,  or  does 
it  amuse  or  instruct.  Nor  in  reading  good 
moral  observations,  or  anecdotes  of  great 
men,  do  I  care  whether  they  are  in  a  con- 
nected series,  or  strung  together  like  Swift's 
Tritical  Dissertation  on  the  Faculties  of 
the  Human  Mind.  The  Apophthegms  of 
Plutarch  are  somewhat  in  the  same  way. 
The  chapters  of  Athenaeus,  and  the  Noctes 
Atticse  of  Aulus  Gellius,  are  of  the  same 
rambling  sort  of  composition.  Montaigne's 
Essays  also  ;  and  some  of  the  introductory 
chapters  of  Henry  Fielding."  A  distin- 
guished actor,  playwright,  and  dramatist, 
defending  himself  against  a  charge  of  pla- 
giarism, says :  "  On  looking  through  the  list 
The  great  of  the  works  of  our  great  dramatic  writers, 
£££"  I  fail  to  perceive  that  Sheridan  has  acknowl- 
edged that  out  of  his  seven  works  five  are 
adaptations,  and  the  other  two  far  from 
'original.'  Wycherley's  four  works  are  all 
'taken  from  the  French.'  Vanbrugh  and 
Farquhar  freely  altered  old  plays,  or,  like 
Moliere,  'took  their  plots  and  characters 
where  they  could  find  them.'  It  would 
puzzle  Messrs.  Collier  and  Grant  White  to 
find  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays  that  could 
be  certified  as  his  own,  so  far  as  construc- 
tion is  concerned.  With  the  exception  of 


In  a  Club  Corner  43 

Farquhar,  who  admitted  that  he  had  used 
Fletcher's  Wild  Goose  Chase  in  the  con- 
struction of  his  comedy,  The  Inconstant,  I 
am  not  aware  that  any  of  our  great  dram- 
atists have  thought  fit  to  announce  the 
sources  from  which  they  drew  their  ma-  Aiiiwr 
terials."  Alfred  Henry  Huth,  in  his  Life  ""' 
and  Writings  of  Henry  Thomas  Buckle, 
expresses  himself  upon  originality  in  liter- 
ature :  "  Dante  avows  his  obligations  to 
Virgil,  a  poet  himself  greatly  dependent  on 
Homer,  and  who,  in  his  turn,  has  inspired 
most  of  the  heroic  poets  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
Ariosto  has  been  greatly  indebted  to  him, 
to  Ovid,  and  even  to  Horace.  Shakespeare 
has  no  original  plots.  Spenser  is  deeply 
indebted  to  Ariosto,  and  we  find  at  least 
one  example  of  a  very  important  idea  com- 
mon both  to  him  and  Shakespeare.  Milton,  Mai<m 
too,  is  a  boundless  borrower.  Each  one  "i£?Z 
improves  a  little  or  draws  new  truths  from 
the  works  of  his  predecessors.  Nor  are 
the  prose  writers  of  fiction  any  more  orig- 
inal than  the  poets.  From  the  earliest 
times  before  stories  were  committed  to 
writing  their  universal  origin  was  in  a  fact, 
such  as  a  love  story  or  a  fight.  This  was 
told  in  various  forms,  incidents  were  added, 
stories  divided,  and  mixed  and  made  new 


44  In  a  Club  Corner 

again.     Thus  Spenser  introduced  an  island 
full  of  allegorical  personages  into  his  Faery 
After  t^     Queen,   which   was   after   the   fashion   of 
fask  many  productions  of  this  period  ;  this  gave 

birth  to  Fletcher's  Purple  Island,  which 
produced  Bernard's  Isle  of  Man,  from 
which,  in  its  turn,  arose  Bunyan's  Pilgrim's 
Progress.  His  description  of  Vanity  Fair 
was  probably  taken  from  Bartholomew  Fair 
or  his  own  experiences,  as  characters  are 
taken  from  life  by  various  authors  and 
worked  up  into  different  forms :  and  so, 
too,  with  feelings,  that  are  common  to  the 
human  race  ;  for  Dante  and  he  both  open 
with  the  same  sort  of  description  of  tribu- 
lation and  doubt.  Swift,  again,  in  his  Gul- 
liver's Travels,  Fontenelle  in  his  Plurality 
of  Worlds,  Voltaire  in  his  Micromegas,  are 
Macauiay's  all  indebted  to  Bergerac.  Even  Lord  Ma- 
lander  caulay's  New  Zealander  is  believed  by  some 
to  have  been  taken  from  a  conceit  of  Gib- 
bon's ;  Sheridan's  Mrs.  Malaprop  from 
Fielding's  Mrs.  Slipslop ;  Dickens  owes 
his  style  and  many  of  his  incidents,  such 
as  the  Duel  and  Samuel  Weller's  offer  of 
money  to  Pickwick,  to  Smollett,  and  Wel- 
ler's story  of  the  muffins  in  all  probability 
to  Beauclerk's  account  to  Johnson  of  the 
tragical  end  of  Mr.  Fitzherbert.  Indeed,  a 


In  a  Club  Corner  45 

man  who  was  really  original  in  everything  A 
would  be  a  very  prodigy,  as  great  a  prodigy 
as  a  new  animal  not  derived  from  some 
similar  ancestor.  There  is  no  single  work 
whose  dependence  may  not  be  traced  up- 
ward from  suggester  to  suggester  until  its 
origin  is  lost  in  antiquity,  and  it  only  re- 
mains for  us  to  infer  from  analogous  cases 
that  it  originated  in  some  fact."  It  is  said 
that  Dr.  Johnson  at  one  time  projected  a 
work  to  show  how  small  a  quantity  of  real 
fiction  there  is  in  the  world  ;  and  that  the 
same  images,  with  very  little  variation, 
have  served  all  the  authors  who  have  ever 
written.  Yet,  as  Coleridge  has  remarked, 
plagiarists  are  always  suspicious  of  being 
stolen  from,  as  pickpockets  are  observed 
commonly  to  walk  with  their  hands  in 
their  breeches  pockets.  As  well  said,  a  T 
writer  soon  finds  himself  in  a  strait. 
If  he  read  much,  and  have  a  poor  verbal 
memory,  the  bare  seed  of  a  thought  may 
drop  down  into  his  life  while  the  husk  is 
forgotten ;  by  and  by  that  idea  comes 
bubbling  up  to  the  surface  of  his  mind  ;  he 
snatches  the  prismatic  thing  as  his  own, 
and  if  he  do  not  bethink  himself  quickly, 
he  is  indicted  as  a  plagiarist.  If  he  read 
little,  but  is  given  to  his  own  explorations, 


46  In  a  Club  Corner 

he  is  pretty  sure  to  make  the  same  dis- 
coveries that  others  have  made  before  him. 
ffoinuScm,  Honest  thinkers,  Holmes  says,  are  always 
stealing  unconsciously  from  each  other. 
Our  minds  are  full  of  waifs  and  estrays 
which  we  think  are  our  own.  Innocent 
plagiarism  turns  up  everywhere.  Our  best 
musical  critic  tells  us  that  a  few  notes  of 
the  air  of  Shoo  Fly  are  borrowed  from  a 
movement  in  one  of  the  magnificent  har- 
monies of  Beethoven. 

ONK  QUAL-  The  greatest  edifice  that  man  has  ever 
GREAT.  raised  was,  to  Madame  de  Stae'l,  the  most 
sublime  monument  in  Rome,  and  the  more 
so  that  it  at  first  baffles  and  disappoints 
the  mind.  "  One  reaches  the  sublime  only 
by  degrees.  Infinite  distances  separate 
it  from  that  which  is  only  beautiful.  St. 
st  Peter1,.  Peter's  is  a  work  of  man  which  produces 
on  the  mind  the  effect  of  a  marvel  of  na- 
ture. In  it  the  genius  of  man  is  glorified 
by  the  magnificence  of  nature."  I  have 
never  in  my  life,  said  Madame  de  Genlis, 
seen  but  two  things  which  surpassed  all 
that  my  imagination  could  picture  to  me 
beforehand  ;  these  are  the  Ocean  and  St. 
Peter's  at  Rome.  "  I  have  been  four  or 
five  times  at  St.  Peter's,"  says  Hawthorne, 


In  a  Club  Corner  47 

"  and  always  with  pleasure,  because  there 
is  such  a  delightful,  summer-like  warmth 
the  moment  we  pass  beneath  the  heavy 
padded  leather  curtains  that  protect  the 
entrances.  It  is  almost  impossible  not  to 
believe  that  this  genial  temperature  is  the  it 
result  of  furnace-heat,  but,  really,  it  is  the  *««/"* 
warmth  of  last  summer,  which  will  be  in- 
cluded within  these  massive  walls,  and  in 
that  vast  immensity  of  space,  till,  six 
months  hence,  this  winter's  chill  will  just 
have  made  its  way  thither.  It  would  be 
an  excellent  place  for  a  valetudinarian  to 
lodge  during  the  winter  in  St.  Peter's,  per- 
haps establishing  his  household  in  one  of 
the  papal  tombs."  "When  the  visitor," 
says  Hillard,  "  has  passed  into  the  interior 
of  St.  Peter's,  and  so  far  recovered  from 
the  first  rush  of  tumultuous  sensations 
which  crowd  upon  him  as  to  be  able  to 
look  about  him,  he  will  be  struck  with, 
and,  if  not  forewarned,  disappointed  at,  the 
apparent  want  of  magnitude."  But  he  will 
find  that  the  windows  of  the  church  are 
never  opened,  it  is  so  immense  as  well  as 
so  complete;  that  it  has  its  own  atmos-  Anatmos- 
phere,  and  needs  no  supply  from  the  world  «•» 
without;  that  the  most  zealous  professor 
of  ventilation  would  admit  that  there  was 


48  In  a  Club  Corner 

no  work  for  him  to  do  here.  "  When  we 
dream  of  the  climate  of  heaven,  we  make 
it  warmth  without  heat,  and  coolness  with- 
out cold,  like  that  of  St.  Peter's."  "  To 

Tke Popes  see  the  Pope,"  exclaimed  Northcote,  "give 
the  benediction  at  St.  Peter's  !  raising  him- 
self up  and  spreading  out  his  hands  in  the 
form  of  a  cross,  with  an  energy  and  dignity 
as  if  he  was  giving  a  blessing  to  the  whole 

st.  Mares,  world  !  "  Such  a  church  as  St.  Mark's,  a 
visitor  has  remarked,  cannot  be  conquered 
without  time.  It  must  be  visited  again 
and  again,  and  slowly  and  patiently  studied. 
To  dispatch  such  an  edifice  in  an  hour  or 
two  is  like  trying  to  read  through  Gibbon 
at  a  sitting.  Long  before  the  task  is  com- 
pleted, the  eye  refuses  to  look,  and  the 
wearied  brain  to  receive  impressions,  and 
we  find  that  in  attempting  to  grasp  every- 

Ti* great     thing  we  retain  nothing.     The  great  wall 

CAtna.  of  China,  extending  for  twelve  hundred 
English  miles  along  what  was  once  the 
whole  northern  frontier  of  the  Chinese 
empire,  —  from  twenty  to  twenty-five  feet 
high,  —  wide  enough  for  six  horses  to  run 
abreast,  and  furnished  with  a  suitable  num- 
ber of  gates  and  bastions,  contains,  it  has 
been  carefully  estimated,  more  material 
than  all  the  buildings  of  the  British  em- 


In  a  Club  Corner  49 

pire  put  together.  The  Amazon,  the  might-  The  mighty 
iest  river  in  the  world,  rises  amid  the  lof- 
tiest volcanoes  on  the  globe,  and  flows 
through  a  forest  unparalleled  in  extent. 
We  have  no  proper  conception,  says  Or- 
ton,  of  the  vast  dimensions  of  the  thou- 
sand-armed river  till  we  sail  for  weeks  over 
its  broad  bosom,  beholding  it  sweeping 
disdainfully  by  the  great  Madeira  as  if  its 
contribution  was  of  no  account,  discharging 
into  the  sea  one  hundred  thousand  cubic 
feet  of  water  per  second  more  than  our 
Mississippi,  rolling  its  turbid  waves  thou- 
sands of  miles  exactly  as  it  pleases,  —  plow- 
ing a  new  channel  every  year,  with  tribu- 
taries twenty  miles  wide,  and  an  island  in 
its  mouth  twice  the  size  of  Massachusetts. 
In  the  oceanic  river,  observes  a  Cambridge 
professor,  the  tidal  action  has  an  annual 
instead  of  a  daily  ebb  and  flow  ;  it  obeys  a 
larger  orb,  and  is  ruled  by  the  sun  and  not 
by  the  moon.  Wallace  says  that  when, 
for  the  first  time,  the  traveler  wanders  in 
the  primeval  forests  of  the  tropics,  he  can 
scarcely  fail  to  experience  sensations  of 
awe,  akin  to  those  excited  by  the  trackless 
ocean  or  the  Alpine  snowfields.  There  is 
a  vastness,  a  solemnity,  a  gloom,  a  sense 
of  solitude  and  of  human  insignificance 


50  In  a  Club  Corner 

which  for  a  time  overwhelms  him.  It  has 
been  remarked  by  every  one  who  has  seen 
the  pyramids  that  the  sense  of  sight  is  de- 
ceived in  the  attempt  to  appreciate  their 
distance  and  magnitude.  Though  removed 
several  leagues  from  the  spectator,  they 
appear  to  be  close  at  hand ;  and  it  is  not 
until  he  has  traveled  some  miles  in  a  direct 
line  toward  them  that  he  becomes  sensible 
of  their  vast  bulk  and  also  of  the  pure  at- 
mosphere through  which  they  are  viewed. 
One  of  the  French  philosophers  who  ac- 
companied Napoleon  to  Egypt  tells  us 
that  when  he  first  visited  the  great  pyra- 
mid he  was  surprised  to  see  it  so  diminu- 
tive. It  stood  alone  in  a  boundless  plain. 
There  was  nothing  near  it  from  which  to 
calculate  its  magnitude.  But  when  the 
camp  was  pitched  beside  it,  and  the  tents 
appeared  like  insignificant  specks  around 
its  base,  he  then  perceived  the  immensity 
of  this  mightiest  work  of  man.  It  has  been 
regarded  a  weakness  of  practical  natures  to 
laugh  with  Pliny  at  the  pyramids,  as  mere 
monuments  of  human  vanity.  We  forget 
the  human  weakness  of  personal  commem- 
oration when  we  remember  that  the  pyra- 
of  a  mids  are  material  records  of  a  belief  in  im- 
mortality,  the  oldest  and  the  most  enduring. 


In  a  Club  Corner  5/ 

It  is  easy  to  preach,  but  not  so  easy  to  PRECEPT 
practice.  We  know  so  much  better  than  PRACTIC*. 
we  do.  It  has  been  said  that  when  Charles 
Lamb  called  Coleridge  "an  archangel  — 
a  little  damaged,"  he  painted  the  contrast 
between  human  ideals  and  human  experi-  ideaisand 
ence.  The  poet  Gray  speaks  of  the  Greek 
sophist  that  got  immortal  honor  by  dis- 
coursing so  feelingly  on  the  miseries  of  our 
condition,  that  fifty  of  his  audience  went 
home  and  hanged  themselves,  —  the  orator 
(the  poet  supposes)  living  many  years  after 
in  very  good  plight.  "The  Greeks,"  says 
About,  "who  are  the  least  scrupulous  as 
to  honesty,  observe  very  strictly  the  pre- 
cepts of  the  Church,  and  blindly  obey  the 
priests.  When  a  mother  sells  her  daugh- 
ter to  a  rich  person,  she  always  stipulates 
that  so  much  shall  be  given  for  the  daugh- 
ter, so  much  for  the  parents,  and  so  much 
for  the  Church.  I  have  had  the  honor,"  he 
says,  "of  dining  with  an  assassin,  and  the  Dining 
misfortune  of  shocking  him.  We  were  at 
^Egina,  and  we  were  eating  a  lamb  &  la 
Pilikar,  in  the  open  air,  and  in  the  middle 
of  Lent.  A  Greek,  whom  we  did  not  know, 
came  and  sat  down  by  us,  ate  our  bread 
and  our  figs,  drank  our  wine,  and  with- 
drew, much  shocked  at  our  conduct,  after 


an  assassin. 


52  In  a  Club  Corner 

he  was  filled.  I  learned  next  day  that  this 
sulky  guest  had  the  death  of  a  man  upon 
his  conscience,  and  that  justice  was  look- 
ing for  him  prudently,  in  such  a  way  as 
never  to  find  him.  He  thought  himself, 
A  better  however,  a  better  Christian  than  we."  Sir 

Christian. 

James  Mackintosh  spent  ten  years  in  In- 
dia, and  the  account  he  gives  of  the  Hin- 
doo character  is  very  curious.  He  says  in 
refinement  of  manners,  cultivation,  and 
politeness,  they  are  equal  to  Europeans  ; 
they  talk  of  truth,  honor,  and  moral  obliga- 
tion as  if  they  felt  it,  but  that  in  fact  they 
neither  act  upon  their  principles  them- 
selves nor  expect  you  to  act  upon  them. 
Sir  James  knew  a  Hindoo  rajah,  a  man 
of  great  acquirements  and  of  the  most 
polished  manners,  who,  when  he  was  dis- 
appointed in  the  collection  of  his  taxes  of 
A  poundof  the  sum  he  expected,  ordered  a  pound  of 
eyes  to  be  brought  him  of  those  who  had 
refused  to  pay  the  taxes.  "I  never  can 
make  out  how  it  is,"  says  Ruskin,  "that  a 
knight-errant  does  not  expect  to  be  paid 
for  his  trouble,  but  a  peddler-errant  always 
does ;  —  that  people  are  willing  to  take 
hard  knocks  for  nothing,  but  never  to  sell 
ribbons  cheap  ;  —  that  they  are  ready  to  go 
on  fervent  crusades  to  recover  the  tomb  of 


In  a  Club  Corner  53 

a  buried  God,  never  on  any  travel  to  fulfill 
the  orders  of  a  living  God  ;  —  that  they 
will  go  anywhere  barefoot  to  preach  their 
faith,  but  must  be  well  bribed  to  practice 
it ;  and  are  perfectly  ready  to  give  the  gos- 
pel gratis,  but  never  the  loaves  and  fishes." 
It  has  been  remarked  that  in  the  propa- 
gation of  a  new  religion,  or  in  a  new  tenet 
of  a  particular  faith,  what  is  moderate  will 
be  less  likely  to  prevail  in  the  opinions  of 
men.  The  absurd  is  always  the  most  pop-  The  absurd 
ular,  and  this  upon  the  principle  that  arti-  %£%£. 
ficial  tastes  are  stronger  than  the  natural ; 
and  what  produces  the  greatest  excitement 
is  most  pleasing  to  the  mind.  Hence  it  is 
that  mere  morality  and  the  dictates  of  na- 
ture and  truth  in  the  conduct  of  men  are 
undervalued  in  comparison  of  the  dogmata 
of  fanatical  faiths.  Unintelligible  reveries 
are  better  relished  in  the  pulpit  than  just 
reasoning  on  the  principles  of  right  and 
wrong  in  the  actions  of  men  ;  and  incom-  incompre- 
prehensible  theological  disquisitions  are  d*pcaidi»- 
put  into  the  hands  of  young  people,  as  **"' 
more  substantial  food  for  the  mind  than 
precepts  of  moral  truth,  which  every  step 
in  life  will  bring  into  practice,  and.  explain. 
Hume  says  in  one  of  his  essays  that  "if 
we  should  suppose,  what  never  happens, 


54  In  a  Club  Corner 

that  a  popular  religion  were  found  in  which 
it  was  expressly  declared  that  nothing  but 
morality  could  gain  the  divine  favor ;  if  an 
order  of  priests  were  instituted  to  incul- 
cate this  opinion,  in  daily  sermons,  and 
with  all  the  arts  of  persuasion  ;  yet  so  in- 
Tke peopvs  veterate  are  the  people's  prejudices,  that, 

prejudices.      ,  ,  ... 

for  want  of  some  other  superstition,  they 
would  make  the  very  attendance  on  these 
sermons  the  essentials  of  religion,  rather 
than  place  them  in  virtue  and  good  morals." 
"  No  man,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  "  practices 
as  well  as  he  preaches.  I  have,"  he  said, 
"all  my  life  long,  been  lying  till  noon  ;  yet 
I  tell  all  young  men,  and  tell  them  with 
great  sincerity,  that  nobody  who  does  not 
rise  early  will  ever  do  any  good.  Only 
consider !  You  read  a  book ;  you  are  con- 
vinced by  it ;  you  do  not  know  the  author. 
Suppose  you  afterwards  know  him,  and 
find  that  he  does  not  practice  what  he 
teaches ;  are  you  to  give  up  your  former 
convictions  ? "  Foster,  in  a  note  to  one 
of  his  essays,  refers  to  a  Spanish  story  of  a 
Tiu devil  village  where  the  devil,  having  made  the 

compelled  .       .  .    ,       ,  .    ,        , 

to  tum  people  excessively  wicked,  was  punished 
by  being  compelled  to  assume  the  appear- 
ance and  habit  of  a  friar,  and  to  preach  so 
eloquently,  in  spite  of  his  internal  repug- 


In  a  Club  Corner  55 

nance  and  rage,  that  the  inhabitants  were 
completely  reformed.  When  Dr.  Johnson 
said  of  old  Lord  Townshend,  "though  a 
Whig,  he  had  humanity,"  he  meant  to  say 
that  his  lordship's  actions  were  better  than  Actions 
his  notions.  A  profoundly  Christian  man,  notions. 
and  very  practical  in  his  Christianity,  once 
said  to  me  of  a  certain  set  of  prominent 
Americans,  "Though  infidels,  there  is  this 
to  say  in  their  favor,  —  they  are  all  phi- 
lanthropists." That  journey  of  life's  con- 
quest, in  which  hills  over  hills,  and  Alps  on 
Alps  arose,  and  sank,  —  do  you  think  you 
can  make  another  trace  it  painlessly  by 
talking  ?  asks  Ruskin.  Why,  you  cannot 
even  carry  us  up  an  Alp,  by  talking.  You 
can  guide  us  up  to  it,  step  by  step,  no  oth- 
erwise —  even  so,  best  silently.  It  is  the 
expressed  opinion  of  Taine  that  in  the 
matter  of  morals,  words  amount  to  noth-  words 

,  amount  to 

ing ;  in  themselves,  they  are  only  so  many  nothing. 
more  or  less  disagreeable  sounds.  It  is 
the  education  precedent  which  gives  them 
force  and  meaning.  If  this  have  lodged 
two  or  three  sensible  ideas  in  the  boy's 
head,  talk  rationally  to  him  ;  if  not,  as  well 
attempt  to  strike  sparks  from  a  log  of 
wood.  You  must  address  yourself  to  feel- 
ings which  already  exist,  and  no  fine 


5<5  In  a  Club  Corner 

phrases  can  call  them  into  life  in  a  quarter 
of  an  hour.  Dr.  Thomson  said  of  God- 
win  (who,  in  the  full  tide  of  his  theory  of 
perfectibility,  declared  he  "  could  educate 
tigers "),  "  I  should  like  to  see  him  in  a 
cage  with  two  of  his  pupils." 

LONG  To  speak  short,  think  long,  is  the  advice 

of  wisdom  to  speakers  and  writers.  Can 
it  be  that  Paley  meant  to  enforce  the  ad- 
monition, when  in  one  of  his  College  Lec- 
tures he  urged  the  clergy,  if  their  situation 
required  a  sermon  every  Sunday,  to  "  make 
one  and  steal  five"?  Though,  so  far  as 
the  English  Church  is  concerned,  a  witty 
traveler  has  described  the  standard  of  the 
sermons  in  the  Establishment  to  be, 
"  twenty  minutes  in  length  and  no  depth 
at  all." 

st.  Patrick's  Of  all  preachers,  according  to  Joceline, 
St.  Patrick  was  the  most  tremendous.  He 
went  through  the  four  Gospels  in  one  ex- 
position to  the  Irish  at  a  place  called  Fin- 
nablair,  and  he  was  three  days  and  nights 
about  it,  without  intermission,  to  the  great 
delight  of  the  hearers,  who  thought  that 
only  one  day  had  passed.  St.  Bridget  was 
present,  and  she  took  a  comfortable  nap, 
and  had  a  vision. 


In  a  Club  Corner  57 

It  was  wisely  observed  by  Swift  that  OLD  AGK. 
every  man  desireth  to  live  long,  but  no- 
body would  be  old.  In  one  of  Lucian's 
Dialogues  of  the  Dead  is  reported  a  con- 
versation between  an  old  man  and  Diog-  Anoidma 
enes.  The  philosopher,  seeing  all  but  «««. 
infants  in  tears,  asks,  in  extreme  surprise, 
whether  life  can  exercise  some  spell  or 
charm  over  mankind,  so  as  to  induce  even 
the  aged  to  deplore  its  loss.  "  What  can 
be  the  cause  of  your  sorrow  ?  "  says  he  to 
the  old  man.  "  You  were,  perhaps,  once  a 
sovereign  ?  "  "  No."  "At  least  a  satrap  ?" 
"No."  "A  man  of  great  wealth,  then?" 
"  No  ;  nothing  of  the  kind  ;  only  a  beggar 
of  fourscore  and  ten  years,  scarcely  sup- 
porting life  with  a  rod  and  line,  childless, 
lame,  and  blind."  "And  having  been  such, 
you  yet  desire  to  live  as  such  again  ? " 
"  Yea,  verily,"  replies  the  beggar,  "for  life 
is  sweet,  and  death  is  dire  and  detestable." 
Lucian  also  reports  an  interview  between 
Cerberus  and  Menippus  as  to  Socrates,  in  Socrates. 
the  same  dark  region.  "Cerberus,  I  be- 
seech you,  by  Styx,  to  inform  me  how 
Socrates  behaved  when  he  came  down 
amongst  you :  I  suppose,  being  a  god,  you 
can  talk  as  well  as  bark,  when  you  have 
a  mind  to  it."  "At  first,  Menippus,"  Cer- 


In  a  Club  Comer 


at  first  to 
fear  death. 


A  saying 
ofSoUm. 


berus  replied,  "and  whilst  he  was  at  a  good 
distance,  the  philosopher  never  looked 
back,  but  advanced  boldly  forwards,  seem- 
ing not  to  fear  death  in  the  least,  and  as  if 
he  meant  to  show  his  bravery  to  those  who 
stood  afar  off  from  the  centre  of  Tartarus ; 
but  when  he  came  into  the  cave,  and  found 
it  all  dark  and  dismal,  and,  to  hasten  him  a 
little,  I  bit  him  by  his  poisoned  foot,  he 
cried  like  a  child,  began  to  lament  his 
children,  and  writhed  about." 

It  was  Sir  William  Temple's  opinion  that 
life  is  like  wine  ;  who  would  drink  it  pure 
must  not  draw  it  to  the  dregs.  "  I  abhor," 
said  Emerson  to  Carlyle,  "the  inroads 
which  time  makes  on  me  and  my  friends. 
To  live  too  long  is  the  capital  misfortune." 
In  his  closing  years,  life  appeared  to  Hum- 
boldt  increasingly  in  the  light  of  Dante's 
celebrated  simile,  as  a  race  to  death,  an 
expression  he  loved  to  quote.  At  eighty- 
eight  he  wrote  to  one  of  his  friends: 
"  Pray  avoid  living  to  so  unusual  an  age." 

Solon  used  to  say  to  his  friends  that  a 
man  of  sixty  ought  never  to  fear  death  nor 
to  complain  of  the  evils  of  life.  He  might 
have  said,  further,  that  a  man  at  that  time 
of  life  has  already  lived  nearly  twice  his 
right,  according  to  the  average,  and  that 


In  a  Club  Corner  59 

for  so  many  years  he  has  lived  upon  other 
people's  time. 

"  I  am,"  said  Sydney  Smith,  "  going 
slowly  down  the  hill  of  life.  One  evil  in 
old  age  is,  that  as  your  time  is  come,  you  °Uae"' 
think  every  little  illness  is  the  beginning 
of  the  end.  When  a  man  expects  to  be 
arrested,  every  knock  at  the  door  is  an 
alarm.  We  are,  at  the  close  of  life,  only 
hurried  away  from  stomach-aches,  pains 
in  the  joints,  from  sleepless  nights  and 
unamusing  days,  from  weakness,  ugliness, 
and  nervous  tremors."  "I  suspect,"  he 
said,  at  another  time,  "the  fifth  act  of 
life  should  be  in  great  cities ;  it  is  there, 
in  the  long  death  of  old  age,  that  a  man 
most  forgets  himself  and  his  infirmities ; 
receives  the  greatest  consolation  from  the 
attentions  of  friends,  and  the  greatest  di- 
version from  external  circumstances." 

"Youth,"  thought  Souvestre,  "is  a 
forced  apprenticeship,  in  which  one's  time, 
will,  intelligence,  everything,  is  the  prop- 
erty of  one's  master.  Our  feet  carry  us 
well,  but  stir  only  at  the  word  of  command. 
Manhood  imposes  on  us  fresh  duties  at 
every  instant;  middle  life  increases  the 
burden  of  our  responsibilities ;  old  age  oidagf 
alone  is  really  free.  The  world  of  which 


60  In  a  Club  Corner 

we  were  slaves  signs  then,  at  length,  our 

order  of  release.     Ours  are  henceforth  the 

long  nights  of  repose,  the  walks  without 

any  defined  object,  the  uninterrupted  chit- 

The  houn    chats,  the  whimsical  readings,  the   hours 

sp^it  at  one'*  Spent  at  one's  ease  .  no  longer  have  we  at 

our  doors  the  six  week  days  crying  out 
to  us  like  Bluebeard  in  the  popular  tale, 
4  Will  you  come  down  there  from  above  ? ' " 

"  The  time  that  we  count  by  the  year 
has  gone,  and  the  time  that  we  must  count 
by  the  day  comes  in  its  stead.  The  less 
one's  income,  the  more  important  to  use  it 
well.  I  have  (says  Diderot)  perhaps  half  a 
score  of  years  at  the  bottom  of  my  wallet. 
In  these  ten  years,  fluxions,  rheumatisms, 
and  the  other  members  of  that  trouble- 
some family  will  take  two  or  three  of  them  ; 
let  us  try  to  economize  the  seven  that  are 
left,  for  the  repose  and  the  small  happiness 
that  a  man  may  promise  himself  on  the 
wrong  side  of  sixty." 

Charlotte  Bronte  thought  that  at  best 

Events  and  life  is  so  constructed  that  the  event  does 

not,  cannot,  will  not,  match  the  experience. 

When  Hogarth's  life  was  nearly  done  he 
made  a  picture  showing  the  end  of  all 
earthly  things.  On  the  canvas  was  a  shat- 
tered bottle,  a  cracked  bell,  an  unstrung 


In  a  Club  Corner  61 

bow,  the  sign-post  of  a  tavern  called  The 
World's  End  falling  down,  a  shipwreck, 
the  horses  of  Phcebus  lying  dead  in  the 
clouds,  the  moon  in  her  last  quarter,  the 
world  on  fire.  "  One  more  thing,"  said 
Hogarth,  "and  I  have  done."  Then  he  Hegartvs 
added  to  this  picture  a  painter's  palette 
broken.  It  was  the  last  work  of  art  he 
ever  executed. 

Montaigne  said,  "  God  is  favorable  to 
those  whom  he  makes  to  die  by  degrees ; 
't  is  the  only  benefit  of  old  age ;  the  last 
death  will  be  so  much  the  less  full  and 
painful ;  it  will  kill  but  a  half  or  quarter  of 
a  man."  "  We  do  not  die  wholly  at  our 
deaths,"  said  Hazlitt ;  "  we  have  mouldered 
away  gradually  long  before.  Faculty  after 
faculty,  interest  after  interest,  attachment 
after  attachment  disappear :  we  are  torn 
from  ourselves  while  living,  year  after  year 
sees  us  no  longer  the  same,  and  death  only 
consigns  the  last  fragment  of  what  we  were 
to  the  grave."  Dr.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes 
revisited  England  when  he  was  seventy- 
five  years  old.  "  One  incident  of  our  ex-  A  tmuhing 
cursion  to  Stonehenge,"  he  says,  "had  a  *uoim"f." 
significance  to  me  which  renders  it  mem- 
orable in  my  personal  experience.  As  we 
drove  over  the  barren  plain,  one  of  the 


62  In  a  Club  Corner 

party  suddenly  exclaimed,  '  Look !  Look  ! 
See  the  lark  rising  ! '  I  looked  up  with  the 
rest.  There  was  the  bright  blue  sky,  but 
not  a  speck  upon  it  which  my  eyes  could 
distinguish.  Again,  one  called  out, '  Hark ! 
Hark  !  Hear  him  singing  ! '  I  listened, 
but  not  a  sound  reached  my  ear.  Was  it 
strange  that  I  felt  a  momentary  pang? 
Those  that  look  out  of  the  windows  are 
darkened,  and  all  the  daughters  of  music 
are  brought  low.  Was  I  never  again  to  see 
or  hear  the  soaring  songster  at  Heaven's 
Gate  ? "  Donald  MacLeod  describes  the 
visit  of  Walter  Scott  to  London,  four  years 
before  his  death.  The  decay  of  his  powers 
was  already  very  apparent.  He  spent  six 
weeks  with  the  Lockharts  and  with  his  son 
Charles.  Here  were  old  friends  yet  to 
welcome  him,  and  quiet  dinners  with  the 
king  and  others.  He  goes  about,  one  day 
to  hear  Coleridge  discourse  on  the  Samo- 
thracian  Mysteries,  another  day  to  sit  to 
the  artist  Northcote  :  again  to  exchange  a 
lock  of  his  white  hair  with  a  pretty  girl  for 
a  kiss,  and  once  to  hear  a  lady  sing  one  of 
his  own  songs  from  the  Pirate  :  — 

"  Farewell,  farewell,  the  voice  you  hear 

Has  left  its  last  soft  tones  with  you, 
Its  next  must  join  the  seaward  cheer, 
And  shout  amid  the  shouting  crew." 


In  a  Club  Corner  6) 

He   liked    the   music,   and   whispered   to 
Lockhart,     "  Capital    words :    whose    are 
they  ?     Byron's,  I  suppose,  but  I  don't  re- 
member   them."     When    told    that   they 
were  his  own,  he  seemed  pleased  for  an  in- 
stant, but  the  pleasure  vanished,  and  he 
said,  "  You  have  distressed  me.     If  mem-  Memo-y 
ory  goes,  all  is  gone  with  me,  for  that  was  K°' 
always  my  strong   point."     Oblivion  was 
scattering  her  poppy. 

The  wonder  is  that  we  should  care  so 
much  to  remain  here  —  those  of  us  that 
have  felt  successively  the  touches  of  decay. 
Dim  eyes,  dull  ears,  lost  teeth,  flaccid  mus- 
cles, trembling  nerves,  uncertain  locomo- 
tion, impaired  memory,  remind  us  of  what 
we  were,  and  warn  us  of  what  we  will  be 
if  we  linger.  Fading,  failing,  is  announced  Fading, 
in  every  function  and  faculty.  We  have 
had  our  little  day.  We  did  our  poor  best 
in  the  fight  that  is  over.  We  have  known 
the  inspiration  of  effort  and  the  delights  of 
achievement.  We  have  received  about  all 
we  deserved.  Poor  or  rich,  we  have  had 
our  joys  and  our  anxieties.  Our  sons  are 
fairly  on  the  way.  We  have  built  houses 
for  them,  to  be  superseded  or  remodeled. 
We  are  at  the  tail  of  the  procession.  It 
is  easy  to  see  that  society  has  arranged  to 


64  In  a  Club  Corner 

do  without  us.  Our  notions  are  obsolete 
or  superannuated.  They  call  us  names 
when  we  express  them.  We  hang  our 
faces  on  the  wall,  to  be  turned  to  it  in 
time,  and  forgotten.  Our  reason  is  called 
in  the  way  obstinacy.  We  are  in  the  way  of  progress, 
and  a  hindrance  to  growth.  Our  little 
savings  are  anticipated  capital.  Life  in- 
surance has  made  our  deaths  interesting. 
We  cling  to  old  clothes,  old  customs,  old 
associations,  and  acquired  habits,  and  are 
laughed  at  by  those  who  will  do  the  same. 
Our  minds  have  been  traveled  over  till 
those  who  are  familiar  with  us  take  for 
granted  they  know  them  better  than  we 
know  them  ourselves.  When  we  open  our 
mouths  they  assume  to  know  precisely 
what  we  mean  to  say.  The  point  of  our 
talk  is  anticipated  and  made  easy.  Cir- 
cumspection is  imbecility,  experience  dis- 
trust. Our  signs  of  things  are  invisibilities, 
which  are  revealed  only  to  ourselves  by 
introspection  and  the  gravest  reflection. 
why  tkouid  Why  should  we  want  to  stay,  where  we  are 
S^r""  not  wanted,  and  can  do  little  good, — 
where  impulse  and  inexperience  are  to 
govern  ?  Experience  is  for  philosophers, 
and  philosophy  is  not  less  hateful  than 
moderation.  To  our  tombs  we  should  go 


In  a  Club  Corner  65 

as  consciously  and  uncomplainingly  as  we 
go  to  our  beds. 

"The  old,"  says  Goethe,  "lose  one  of 
the  greatest  privileges  of  man,  they  are  no 
longer  judged  by  their  contemporaries." 
Northcote  said,  "What  takes  off  the 
edge  and  stimulus  of  exertion  in  old  age,  stimulus  of 
is  :  those  who  were  our  competitors  in  etahen"Jff. 
early  life,  whom  we  wished  to  excel  or 
whose  good  opinion  we  were  most  anxious 
about,  are  gone,  and  have  left  us  in  a  man- 
ner by  ourselves,  in  a  sort  of  new  world, 
where  we  know  and  are  as  little  known  as 
on  entering  a  strange  country.  Our  ambi- 
tion is  cold  with  the  ashes  of  those  whom 
we  feared  or  loved."  "  As  for  envy,"  said 
Plutarch,  "which  is  the  greatest  evil  at- 
tending the  management  of  public  affairs, 
it  least  attacks  old  age.  For  dogs  indeed, 
as  Heraclitus  has  it,  bark  at  a  stranger 
whom  they  do  not  know ;  and  envy  opposes 
him  who  is  a  beginner  on  the  very  steps  of 
the  tribune,  hindering  his  access,  but  she  Envyrecon 
meekly  bears  an  accustomed  and  familiar 
glory,  and  not  churlishly  or  with  difficulty. 
Wherefore  some  resemble  envy  to  smoke ; 
for  it  arises  thick  at  first,  when  the  fire 
begins  to  burn  ;  but  when  the  flame  grows 
clear,  it  vanishes  away." 


66  In  a  Club  Corner 

It  is  a  maxim  of  La  Rochefoucauld's 
that  "  Old  men  delight  in  giving  good  ad- 
vice, as  a  consolation  for  the  fact  that  they 
can  no  longer  set  bad  examples."  Which 
A  quaint  reminds  one  of  a  passage  in  quaint  old 
Roger  Ascham's  Schoolmaster :  "  It  is  a 
notable  tale  that  old  Sir  Roger  Chamloe, 
sometime  chief  justice,  would  tell  of  him- 
self. When  he  was  Ancient  in  inn  of 
court,  certain  young  gentlemen  were 
brought  before  him  to  be  corrected  for  cer- 
tain misorders ;  and  one  of  the  lustiest 
said  :  '  Sir,  we  be  young  gentlemen  ;  and 
wise  men  before  we  have  proved  all  fash- 
ions, and  yet  those  have  done  well.'  This 
they  said  because  it  was  well  known  Sir 
Roger  had  been  a  good  fellow  in  his  youth. 
But  he  answered  them  very  wisely.  '  In- 
deed,' saith  he,  'in  youth  I  was  as  you  are 
now ;  and  I  had  twelve  fellows  like  unto 
myself,  but  not  one  of  them  came  to  a 
good  end.  And  therefore,  follow  not  my 
counxim  example  in  youth,  but  follow  my  counsel  in 
***'  age,  if  ever  ye  think  to  come  to  this  place, 

or  to  these  years,  that  I  am  come  unto  ; 
less  you  meet  either  with  poverty  or  Tyburn 
in  the  way.' " 

Cato  the  Elder  begged  of  old  men  not 
to  add  the  disgrace  of  wickedness  to  old 


In  a  Club  Corner  67 

age,    which   was    accompanied    by  many 
other  evils.    "  Certainly  Mr.  Shelley  is  right 
in  his  notions  about  old  age,"  thought  De  A 
Quincey  ;  "  unless  powerfully  counteracted 


by  all  sorts  of  opposite  agencies,  it  is  a 
miserable  corrupter  and  blighter  to  the 
genial  charities  of  the  human  heart." 

"The  unthinking  think,"  says  a  wise 
contemporary,  "  that  death  is  an  evil.  It 
may  be  to  the  individual.  It  is  fortunate 
that  he  has  not  the  choice.  As  evil  is 
requisite  to  good,  so  death  is  requisite  to 
life.  If  men  did  not  die,  men  could  not  be 
born.  Without  the  passing  away  and  the 
ever  renewal  of  life,  the  world  would  be 
like  a  living  thing  chained  to  a  corpse." 

"  Death  is  in  one  thing  very  good,"  said 
La  Bruyere:  "it  puts  an  end  to  old  age." 
Goethe,  in  the  second  part  of  Faust,  rep- 
resents his  hero,  in  blind  old  age,  cultivat- 
ing the  barren  sea  sand.  Swift  said,  "  It  A  saying  „/ 
is  impossible  that  anything  so  natural,  so 
necessary,  and  so  universal  as  death  should 
ever  have  been  designed  by  Providence  as 
an  evil  to  mankind." 

The  famous  French  chemist,  Chevreul, 
when  over  one  hundred  years  old,  told  a 
friend  "the  secret  of  long  living."  I  have 
never  been,  he  said,  "  a  pessimist,  and  I 


68  In  a  Club  Corner 

have  continually  kept  myself  from  being 
too  much  of  an  optimist.  Let  us  not 
trouble  ourselves  about  to-morrow.  Let 
Enjoy  the  us  enjoy  the  present."  Bonstetten,  a  life- 
long friend  of  Madame  de  Stael,  and  who 
died  at  ninety,  wrote:  "To  resist  with 
success  the  frigidity  of  old  age,  one  must 
combine  the  body,  the  mind,  and  the  heart ; 
to  keep  these  in  parallel  vigor,  one  must 
exercise,  study,  and  love." 

"  It  would,"  says  Addison,  in  The  Tat- 
ler,  "  be  a  good  appendix  to  the  Art  of 
Living  and  Dying,  if  any  one  would  write 
the  Art  of  Growing  Old,  and  teach  men  to 
resign  their  pretensions  to  the  pleasures 
and  gallantries  of  youth,  in  proportion  to 
the  alteration  they  find  in  themselves  by 
the  approach  of  age  and  infirmities.  The 
infirmities  of  this  stage  of  life  would  be 
much  fewer,  if  we  did  not  affect  those 
which  attend  the  more  vigorous  and  active 
part  of  our  days  ;  but,  instead  of  studying 
to  be  wiser,  or  being  contented  with  our 

A  foolish      present  follies,  the  ambition  of  many  of  us 
vmbitum.      jg   ajgo   j.Q  ke  £ne  same  sorj.  of  fools  we 

formerly  have  been."  A  short  time  before 
Colley  Gibber's  death,  Horace  Walpole 
hailed  him,  on  his  birthday,  with  a  good 
morning,  and  "  I  am  glad,  sir,  to  see  you 


In  a  Club  Corner  69 

looking  so  well."     "  Egad,  sir,"  replied  the 
old  gentleman  —  all  diamonded  and  pow- 
dered, and  dandified  —  "  at  eighty-four,  it  's  Coiiey 
well  for  a  man  that  he  can   look  at  all." 


"There  are  lives,"  says  Philip  Gilbert 
Hamerton,  "such  as  that  of  Major  Pen- 
dennis,  which  only  diminish  in  value  as 
they  advance  —  when  the  man  of  fashion 
is  no  longer  fashionable,  and  the  sports- 
man can  no  longer  stride  over  the  ploughed 
fields.  The  old  age  of  the  Pendennises  is  The  Pen- 
assuredly  not  to  be  envied  ;  but  how  rich  «£**? 

i  £      i         TT          i      i  i       i       T  Humboldis 

is  the  age  of  the  Humboldts  !  I  compare 
the  life  of  the  intellectual  to  a  long  wedge 
of  gold  —  the  thin  edge  of  it  begins  at 
birth,  and  the  depth  and  value  of  it  go  on 
indefinitely  increasing  till  at  last  comes 
Death,  who  stops  the  auriferous  processes." 
The  only  way,  Steele  thought,  of  avoid- 
ing a  trifling  and  frivolous  old  age  is  to  lay 
up  in  our  way  to  it  such  stores  of  knowl- 
edge and  observation  as  may  make  us  use- 
ful and  agreeable  in  our  declining  years. 
The  mind  of  man  in  a  long  life  will  become  The  mind  <* 
a  magazine  of  wisdom  or  folly,  and  will  ™f™T<bm 
consequently  discharge  itself  in  something  "" 
impertinent  or  improving.  For  which  rea- 
son, as  there  is  nothing  more  ridiculous 
than  an  old  trifling  story-teller,  so  there  is 


•jo  In  a  Club  Corner 

nothing  more  venerable  than  one  who  has 
turned  his  experience  to  the  entertainment 
and  advantage  of  mankind.  In  short,  we, 
who  are  in  the  last  stage  of  life,  and  are 
apt  to  indulge  ourselves  in  talk,  ought  to 

Worth        consider  if  what  we  speak  be  worth  being 
*"'  heard,  and  endeavor  to  make  our  discourse 
like  that  of  Nestor,  which  Homer  compares 
to  the  flowing  of  honey  for  its  sweetness. 

Mrs.  Piozzi,  when  she  was  past  eighty, 
wrote  affectionate  love  letters  and  gave 
presents  to  a  handsome  actor  named  Con- 
way,  with  whom  she  was  passionately  in 
love. 

Madame  de   Pompadour,   hearing    that 

Cribuion.  Crebillon  was  very  poor  in  his  old  age,  in- 
duced the  king  to  allow  him  a  pension  of 
an  hundred  louis.  Crebillon  hastened  to 
thank  his  benefactress.  She  was  confined 
to  bed  with  a  slight  indisposition,  when  he 
was  announced  ;  she  desired  him  to  be  ad- 
mitted. Affected  by  the  sight  of  this  fine 
old  man,  she  gave  him  a  very  gracious  re- 
ception. He  was  affected  by  it,  and  was 
leaning  on  the  bed  to  kiss  her  hand,  when 
the  king  came  in.  "Ah,  madame,"  cried 

Surprised     Crebillon,  "  the  king:  has  surprised  us  ;  I 

by  the  king. 

am  undone. 

"I  am  grown  older  by  many  years,"  says 
Montaigne,  "  since  my  first  publication  ; 


In  a  Club  Corner  71 

but  I  very  much  doubt  whether  I  am  grown 
an  inch  the  wiser.  I  now,  and  I  anon,  are 
two  several  persons  ;  but  whether  the  bet-  TWO  several 
ter  now,  or  anon,  I  am  not  able  to  deter-  **" 
mine.  It  were  a  fine  thing  to  be  old,  if  we 
only  traveled  toward  improvement ;  but 
't  is  a  drunken,  stumbling,  reeling,  ill- 
favored  motion,  like  that  of  reeds,  which 
the  air  casually  waves  to  and  fro  at  pleas- 
ure. Antiochus,  in  his  youth,  vigorously 
wrote  in  favor  of  the  Academy  ;  and  in  his 
old  age  he  wrote  against  it.  Would  not 
which  of  these  two  soever  I  should  follow 
be  still  Antiochus  ? " 

"I  have  lived,"  says  Thoreau,  "some 
thirty  years  on  this  planet,  and  I  have  yet 
to  hear  the  first  syllable  of  valuable  or  even 
earnest  advice  from  my  seniors.  They 
have  told  me  nothing,  and  probably  cannot 
tell  me  anything,  to  the  purpose.  Here  is 
life,  an  experiment  to  a  great  extent  un-  Life  an  ex. 
tried  by  me  ;  but  it  does  not  avail  me-that  peri 
they  have  tried  it.  If  I  have  any  experi- 
ence which  I  think  valuable,  I  am  sure  to 
reflect  that  this  my  Mentors  said  nothing 
about." 

"  People  always  fancy,"  said  Goethe, 
laughing,  "that  we  must  become  old  to 
become  wise;  but,  in  truth,  as  years  ad- 


72  In  a  Club  Corner 

vance,  it  is  hard  to  keep  ourselves  as  wise 
as  we  were.     Man  becomes,  indeed,  in  the 

in  differ^  different  stages  of  his  life,  a  different  being ; 

*f?ffribeins.  but  he  cannot  say  that  he  is  a  better  one, 
and,  in  certain  matters,  he  is  as  likely  to 
be  right  in  his  twentieth,  as  in  his  sixtieth 
year.  We  see  the  world  one  way  from  a 
plain,  another  way  from  the  heights  of  a 
promontory,  another  from  the  glacial  fields 
of  the  primary  mountains.  We  see,  from 
one  of  these  points,  a  larger  piece  of  the 
world  than  from  the  other,  but  that  is  all, 
and  we  cannot  say  that  we  see  more  truly 
from  any  one  than  from  the  rest."  "Age 
ought  to  make  us  tolerant,"  he  said  on  an- 
other occasion  ;  "  I  never  see  a  fault  which 
I  did  not  myself  commit." 

It  is  stated  that  when  Harvey  announced 
to  the  world  his  great  discovery  of  the  cir- 
culation of  the  blood,  among  the  physicians 
who  received  it  there  was  not  one  above 
the  age  of  forty. 

Transplant-      Transplanting    old     people     has     been 

*/>&."  '  *  likened  to  transplanting  old  trees ;  a 
twelvemonth  usually  sees  them  wither  and 
die  away.  Grattan  said  of  Flood,  who  was 
brought  late  into  Parliament,  as  Cobbett 
and  Jeffrey,  that  "the  oak  of  the  forest 
was  too  old  to  be  transplanted  at  sixty." 


In  a  Club  Corner  73 

Lady  Mary  Wortley  Montagu  wrote  to 
her  husband,  "'Tis  a  maxim  with  me  to 
be  young  as  long  as  one  can  :  there  is 
nothing  can  pay  one  for  that  invaluable 
ignorance  which  is  the  companion  of 
youth  :  those  sanguine  groundless  hopes, 
and  that  lively  vanity,  which  make  up  the 
happiness  of  life.  To  my  extreme  mortifi- 
cation, I  grow  wiser  every  day." 

Content  is  not.  Youth  would  hasten 
the  hours,  age  arrest  them  altogether. 
Time  !  "  Nothing  is  so  short,  when  we 
wish  to  complete  a  work  ;  nothing  can 
creep  slower  when  we  are  expecting,  or  fly 
more  rapidly  when  we  are  enjoying  pleas- 
ure ;  nothing  is  more  divisible,  or  can  be 
more  extensive,  more  neglected,  or  more 
regretted  when  lost  ;  nothing  can  be  done 
without  it  :  Time  swallows  all  that  is  un- 
worthy to  reach  posterity,  and  immor- 
talizes all  that  is  great  and  wise." 

"  Eternity  !  What  is  that  ?  "  was  asked 
at  the  Deaf  and  Dumb  Institution  at  Paris, 
and  the  beautiful  and  striking  answer  was 
given  by  one  of  the  pupils,  "  The  lifetime 
of  the  Almighty." 

Cicero  puts  these  words  into  the  mouth 
of  his  hero,  in  his  Dialogue  on  Old  Age  : 
"The  day  of  my  death  it  will  not  be  easy 


maxim. 


74  In  &  Club  Corner 

NO  desire  to  to  retain  me  here  below.  I  do  not  desire 
to  be  '  recast,'  like  Pelias  ;  if  some  god 
thought  of  conferring  on  me  a  favor  by 
proposing  to  me  to  recommence  my  jour- 
ney from  infancy,  and  to  crawl  about  a 
second  time  in  swaddling-clothes,  I  should 
refuse  unhesitatingly.  The  race  being 
run,  I  have  no  desire  to  be  recalled  from 
the  goal  to  the  starting-point.  Not  that  I 
affect  to  depreciate  life,  as  certain  philoso- 
phers have  often  done ;  I  do  not  repent 
having  lived,  because  I  think  I  have  lived 
so  as  not  to  have  been  born  in  vain  ;  but  I 
shall  quit  existence  as  an  inn,  and  not  as  a 
dwelling-place.  Nature  has  given  man  the 
material  world  that  he  may  stay  there 
awhile ;  she  does  not  condemn  him  to  re- 
main forever.  O  happy  day  !  when  I  shall 
escape  from  the  crowd  and  from  the  mire, 

The  divine    to  rejoin  the  celestial  assembly,  the  divine 

senattof  ' J        £  .     „  J 

touis.          senate  of  souls. 

There  are  lives,  it  has  been  said,  that 
are  so  rounded  and  crowned  by  their  com- 
pleted deeds  of  love,  that  death  seems  to 
have  appeared  in  the  fullness  of  their  prime 
only  to  consecrate  them  forever ;  others 
stand  apart  from  human  ties  in  a  solitude 
which  makes  time  seem  of  little  conse- 
quence, and  the  grave  a  not  unfamiliar 


In  a  Club  Corner  75 

country.  Solitude  is  often  less  solitary 
than  society  —  where  solitude  is  calm  and 
clear  ;  solitude  only  brings  home  to  one 
one's  own  isolation.  At  all  events,  the 
evidence  of  a  hundred  death-beds,  of  the  Evidence  of 
utmost  diversity,  entirely  goes  to  prove, 
that  among  sincere  and  high-minded  men 
and  women,  death  appears  to  be  rather  a 
process  of  coming  to  one's  self,  of  entering 
into  a  certain  calm  and  self-possession, 
than  one  of  pain,  of  alarm,  or  even  of  sur- 
prise. 

A  short  time  before  Maria  Theresa, 
queen  of  Hungary  and  Bohemia,  breathed 
her  last,  having  apparently  fallen  into  a 
sort  of  insensibility,  and  her  eyes  being 
closed,  one  of  the  ladies  near  her  person, 
in  reply  to  an  inquiry  respecting  the  state 
of  the  empress,  answered  that  her  majesty 
seemed  to  be  asleep.  "  No,"  replied  she ; 
"  I  could  sleep  if  I  would  indulge  repose  ; 
but  I  am  sensible  of  the  near  approach  of 
death,  and  I  will  not  allow  myself  to  be 
surprised  by  him  in  my  sleep.  I  wish  to  wishedto 

..         .       .  i       „  meetherdi* 

meet  my  dissolution  awake.  «**/«* 

On  an  old  parchment,  in  Arabic,  is  in- 
scribed, "  I  came  to  the  place  of  my  birth, 
and  cried,  'The  friends  of  my  youth,  where 
are  they?'  and  Echo  answered,  'Where 


76 


In  a  Club  Corner 


Lift  at 


are  they  ?  '"  "I  am  grown  so  old,"  said 
Dr.  Franklin,  at  eighty-two,  "as  to  have 
buried  most  of  the  friends  of  my  youth  ; 
and  I  now  often  hear  persons,  whom  I 
knew  when  children,  called  old  Mr.  Such- 
a-one,  to  distinguish  them  from  their  sons, 
now  men  grown  and  in  business  ;  so  that, 
by  living  twelve  years  beyond  David's 
period,  I  seem  to  have  intruded  myself  into 
the  company  of  posterity,  when  I  ought  to 
have  been  abed  and  asleep.  ...  I  look 
upon  death  to  be  as  necessary  to  our  con- 
stitutions as  sleep.  We  shall  rise  refreshed 
in  the  morning."  "When  I  look  around 
me,"  said  Goethe,  "  and  see  how  few  of 
the  companions  of  earlier  years  are  left 
Li/e  like  a  to  me,  I  think  of  a  summer  residence  at  a 
bathing-place.  When  you  arrive,  you  first 
become  acquainted  with  those  who  have 
already  been  there  some  weeks,  and  who 
leave  you  in  a  few  days.  This  separation 
is  painful.  Then  you  turn  to  the  second 
generation,  with  which  you  live  a  good 
while,  and  become  really  intimate.  But 
this  goes  also,  and  leaves  us  lonely  with 
the  third,  which  comes  just  as  we  are  going 
away,  and  with  which  we  have  properly 
nothing  to  do."  Charles  Lamb,  in  a  letter 
to  one  of  his  distant  correspondents,  im- 


In  a  Club  Corner  77 

plores  him  to  "  come  back."  "  Come  back," 
he  says,  "  before  I  am  grown  into  a  very 
old  man,  so  as  you  shall  hardly  know  me. 
Come  before  Bridget  walks   on   crutches. 
Girls  whom  you  left  children  have  become  CMS  become 
sage  matrons  while  you  are  tarrying  there.  **£»?**" 
The  blooming  Miss  W r  (you  remem- 
ber Sally  W )  called  upon  us  yesterday, 

an  aged  crone.  Folks,  whom  you  knew, 
die  off  every  year.  Formerly,  I  thought 
that  death  was  wearing  out,  —  I  stood 
ramparted  about  with  so  many  healthy 
friends.  The  departure  of  J.  W.,  two 
springs  back,  corrected  my  delusion.  Since 
then  the  old  divorcer  has  been  busy.  If 
you  do  not  make  haste  to  return  there  will 
be  little  left  to  greet  you,  of  me,  or  mine." 
John  Kenyon,  writing  a  note  of  sympathy 
to  Crabb  Robinson,  on  occasion  of  the 
death  of  his  grand-nephew,  said,  "Only 
live  on,  and  this  once  smiling  world  is 
changed  into  a  huge  cemetery,  in  which  we 
ourselves  hardly  care  to  linger."  There  is 
a  Turkish  tale  to  the  effect  that  when  A  Turkish 
Solomon  was  ruling  on  earth,  the  angel 
Gabriel  was  sent  to  him  one  day  with  a 
goblet  filled  with  the  water  of  life,  and  bear- 
ing from  on  high  the  message  that,  if  he 
chose,  he  might  drink  of  the  water  and 


j8  In  a  Club  Corner 

become  immortal.  Calling  together  all  his 
wisest  counselors,  he  asked  their  advice. 
They,  with  one  consent,  advised  him  to 
drink  and  live  forever.  Then  he  sum- 
moned the  birds  of  the  air  and  the  beasts 
of  the  field,  and  all  of  them  gave  the 
same  advice,  with  one  solitary  exception. 
^  This  was  the  hedgehog.  Approaching  the 

t°oSsSoiom<m!  throne,  and  bending  its  brow  to  the  ground, 
thus  did  it  speak  :  "  If  this  water  may  be 
shared  by  thee  with  thy  kith  and  kin,  then 
drink  and  enjoy  the  bliss  of  living.  But  if 
it  is  intended  for  thee  alone,  then  do  not 
drink.  For  sad  would  it  be  for  thee  to 
live  on,  but  to  see  thy  kinsmen  and  friends 
one  after  the  other  disappear."  "True  are 
thy  words,  O  hedgehog ! "  replied  Solo- 
mon. "  To  me  alone  has  the  water  of  life 
been  sent.  As  thou  hast  counseled  so  will 
I  decide."  And  the  water  of  life  did  he 
not  drink. 

You  remember  the  touching  dialogue  in 

Protesilaus   Lucian,    between   Protesilaus   and   Pluto: 

and  Pluto. 

"  O  Pluto !  our  great  lord  and  master,  the 
Jupiter  of  these  regions  of  the  dead,  and 
thou,  daughter  of  Ceres,  despise  not  a  lov- 
er's prayer  ? "  "  What  would  you  ask  of 
us,  friend,  and  who  are  you  ?  "  said  Pluto. 
"I  am  Protesilaus,  the  Phylacian,  son  of 


In  a  Club  Corner  79 

Iphiclus,  an  ally  of  the  Grecians,  and  was 
the  first  man  slain  at  Troy :  my  desire  is,  Desired  to 
that  I  may  return  back,  and  live  a  little 
longer."  "That  is  a  desire,  Protesilaus, 
which  all  the  dead  have  ;  but  which  was 
never  granted  to  any."  "  It  is  not,"  said 
Protesilaus,  "  for  the  sake  of  living,  but  on 
account  of  my  wife,  whom  I  had  just  mar- 
ried, and  left  in  her  bridal-bed,  when  I  set 
out  on  my  voyage,  and,  unfortunately,  the 
moment  I  landed,  was  slain  by  Hector  : 
the  love  of  her  makes  me  very  unhappy  ;  all 
I  wish  for  is  but  to  see  her  for  a  short  time, 
and  return  to  you  again."  "  Have  not  you 
drank  the  waters  of  Lethe  ?"  asked  Pluto.  The  water* 
"  I  have,"  answered  Protesilaus,  "  but  to  "sufficient?" 
no  purpose  ;  this  thought  is  still  afflicting." 
Johnson's  tender  affection  for  his  de- 
parted wife,  of  which  there  are  many  evi- 
dences in  his  Prayers  and  Meditations,  ap- 
pears very  feelingly  in  this  passage  from 
his  diary  kept  while  he  was  in  Paris : 
"  The  sight  of  palaces  and  other  great 
buildings  leaves  no  very  distinct  images, 
unless  to  those  who  talk  of  them.  As  I 
entered  the  Palais  Bourbon,  my  wife  was 
in  my  mind  ;  she  would  have  been  pleased. 
Having  now  nobody  to  please,  I  am  little 
pleased."  The  old  gentleman  in  Gil  Bias, 


8o  In  a  Club  Corner 

it  is  observed,  who  complained  that  the 
peaches  were  not  as  fine  as  they  appeared 
to  be  when  he  was  young,  had  more  reason 
than  appears  on  the  face  of  it.  He  missed 
not  only  his  former  palate,  but  the  places 
he  ate  them  in,  and  those  who  ate  them 
with  him.  When  Wilkie  was  in  the  Escu- 

Titian'sfa-  rial,  looking  at  Titian's  famous  picture  of 
the  Last  Supper,  in  the  refectory  there, 
an  old  man  said  to  him,  "  I  have  sat  daily 
in  sight  of  that  picture  for  more  than  three- 
score years,  during  that  time  my  compan- 
ions have  dropped  off,  one  after  another, 
all  who  were  my  seniors,  all  who  were  my 
contemporaries,  and  many,  or  most  of  those 
who  were  younger  than  myself ;  more  than 
one  generation  has  passed  away,  and  these 
the  figures  in  the  picture  have  remained 
unchanged.  I  look  at  them  till  I  some- 
times think  that  they  are  the  realities,  and 
we  but  the  shadows." 

"  At  the  age  of  seventy  -  five,"  said 
Goethe,  "  one  must  of  course  think  fre- 
quently of  death.  But  this  thought  never 
gives  me  the  least  uneasiness,  I  am  so 

Tksouiin.  fully  convinced  that  the  soul  is  indestruc- 
tible, and  that  its  activity  will  continue 
through  eternity.  It  is  like  the  sun,  which 
seems  to  our  earthly  eyes  to  set  in  night, 


In  a  Club  Corner  81 

but  is  in  reality  gone  to  diffuse  its  light 
elsewhere." 

"  The  tomb  is  not  an  endless  night ; 

It  is  a  thoroughfare  —  a  way 
That  closes  in  a  soft  twilight 
And  opens  in  eternal  day." 

While  waiting  at  the  station  at  Uttox-  OBLIVIO 
eter,  before  his  departure,  Hawthorne 
asked  a  boy  who  stood  near  him  —  an  in- 
telligent and  gentlemanly  lad,  twelve  or 
thirteen  years  old,  whom  he  took  to  be  a 
clergyman's  son — if  he  had  ever  heard 
the  story  of  Dr.  Johnson,  how  he  stood  an 
hour  doing  penance  near  that  church,  the 
spire  of  which  rose  before  them.  The 
boy  stared  and  answered,  "  No  !  "  "  Were 
you  born  at  Uttoxeter  ?  "  "  Yes."  He 
was  asked  if  no  circumstance  such  as  had 
been  mentioned  was  known  or  talked  about 
among  the  inhabitants.  "  No,"  said  the 
boy;  "not  that  I  ever  heard  of."  "Just 
think,"  reflects  the  great  novelist,  "  of  the 
absurd  little  town,  knowing  nothing  of  the 
only  memorable  incident  which  ever  hap- 
pened within  its  boundaries  since  the  old 
Britons  built  it,  this  sad  and  lovely  story, 
which  consecrates  the  spot  (for  I  found  it 
holy  to  my  contemplation,  again,  as  soon 


82  In  a  Club  Corner 

as  it  lay  before  me)  in  the  heart  of  a 
stranger  from  three  thousand  miles  over 
A  writer-s  the  sea !  "  Some  years  ago,  a  writer  in 
M^d?"  Temple  Bar,  when  in  Bath,  being  anxious 
to  amuse  himself  with  verifying  all  the 
places  and  streets,  etc.,  mentioned  in  Per- 
suasion and  Northanger  Abbey,  he  turned 
into  a  library  close  to  Milsom  Street,  and 
asked  for  the  volume ;  he  was  told  not  only 
that  they  had  not  got  it,  but  had  never 
even  heard  of  Jane  Austen!  And  what 
was  still  worse,  and  hurt  his  feelings  more, 
was  that  when  he  sought  the  inn  which 
her  genius  had  made  so  memorable,  though 
he  found  it,  lo  and  behold !  it  was  no 
longer  the  White  Hart,  it  had  sunk  into 
the  Queen,  or  the  Royal  Hotel,  or  some- 
thing equally  commonplace.  When  Swift 
was  desired  by  Lord  Oxford  to  introduce 
Parnell  to  his  acquaintance,  he  refused, 
A  man  of  upon  this  principle,  that  a  man  of  genius 
galard.a  was  3.  character  superior  to  that  of  a  lord 
in  a  high  station  ;  he  therefore  obliged  his 
lordship  to  walk  with  his  treasurer's  staff 
from  room  to  room  through  his  own  de- 
partment, inquiring  which  was  Dr.  Par- 
nell, in  order  to  introduce  himself,  and  beg 
the  honor  of  his  acquaintance.  Dr.  James 
Alexander,  describing  a  visit  to  the  India 


In  a  Club  Corner  83 

House,  says  he  inquired  for  Charles  Lamb 
of  the  old  doorkeeper,  who  replied  he  had 
been  there  since  he  was  sixteen  years  old, 
and  had  never  heard  of  any  Mr.  Lamb. 
But  the  doorkeeper  of  the  British  Museum 
knew  him  very  well.  Not  long  after  Irving  Irving 
had  attained  celebrity  in  Great  Britain  by 
his  writings,  an  English  lady  and  her 
daughter  were  passing  along  some  gallery 
in  Italy  and  paused  before  a  bust  of  Wash- 
ington. After  gazing  at  it  for  a  few  mo- 
ments, the  daughter  turned  to  her  mother 
with  the  question :  "  Mother,  who  was 
Washington?"  "Why,  my  dear,  don't 
you  know  ? "  was  the  astonished  reply ; 
"  he  wrote  the  Sketch  Book."  The  health 
of  Darwin  was  anything  but  good ;  and 
an  old  family  servant  —  a  woman  —  over- 
hearing his  daughter  express  some  anxiety 
about  his  condition,  sought  to  reassure  her 
by  saying  :  "  Hi  believe  master  'd  be  hall 
right,  madam,  hif  'e  only  'ad  something 
to  hoccupy  'is  mind  ;  sometimes  'e  stands 
in  the  conservatory  from  mornin'  till  night 
—  just  a  lookin'  at  the  flowers.  Hif  'e 
only  'ad  somethin'  to  do,  'e  'd  be  hewer  so 
much  better,  hi'm  sure."  An  ignorant  old 
fellow  who  had  known  Hawthorne  was  met  Hawthorne. 
by  Mr.  Harry  Fenn  in  Salem,  who  vouch- 


84  In  a  Club  Corner 

safed  to  the  artist  the  information  that 
Hawthorne  "  writ  a  lot  o'  letters  —  I  heern 
he  wrote  a  scarlet  letter  or  two,  whatever 
that  is."  The  great-grandniece  of  Mrs. 
Barbauld  gives  in  her  recently  published 
Memories  many  interesting  anecdotes  of 
the  writers  of  the  last  generation.  Con- 
Samuei  cerning  Samuel  Rogers,  whose  generosity 
and  whose  polished  manners  she  praises, 
she  says  :  "  Going  one  night  to  the  gal- 
lery of  the  opera,  which  he  thought  the 
best  place  for  hearing,  he  noticed  a  respect- 
able-looking elderly  man  gazing  at  him 
very  intently  for  some  time.  At  last  be- 
tween the  acts  he  left  his  seat,  and  placing 
himself  in  front  of  Mr.  Rogers,  said  in  a 
solemn  tone,  '  Pray,  sir,  is  your  name 
Samuel  Rogers  ?  '  Mr.  Rogers,  who  al- 
ways cherished  the  hope  that  his  works 
were  popular  with  the  lower  classes,  re- 
plied most  graciously  that  it  was.  '  Then, 
sir,'  said  the  man,  'I  should  be  glad  to 
know,  if  you  please,  why  you  have  changed 
your  poulterer  ?  '  " 


)R~ 


SUBSISTING  Literature  has  been  pronounced  a  good 
staff  but  a  bad  crutch,  —  fascinating,  cheer- 
ing, and  enlivening,  tending  to  promote 
life,  health,  and  an  equable  mind  in  those 


In  a  Club  Corner  8$ 

who  pursue  it  for  pleasure ;  but  woe  to 
those  who  are  dependent  upon  their  brains 
for  daily  bread,  —  thrice  woe,  if  others  are 
dependent  upon  them.  Coleridge  advised, 
never  pursue  literature  as  a  trade.  Haw-  Literature 
thorne,  wrote,  God  keep  me  from  ever 
being  really  a  writer  for  bread.  Lamb  ex- 
claims, in  a  letter  to  Barton  :  "  What ! 
throw  yourself  on  the  world  without  any 
rational  plan  of  support  beyond  what  the 
chance  of  employment  of  booksellers  would 
afford  you  ?  Throw  yourself  rather,  my 
dear  sir,  from  the  steep  Tarpeian  rock 
slap-dash,  headlong  down  upon  iron  spikes. 
I  have  known  many  authors  want  bread : 
some  repining,  others  enjoying  the  sweet 
security  of  a  spunging-house  ;  all  agreeing 
they  had  rather  have  been  tailors,  weavers, 
what  not,  rather  than  the  things  they 
were !  I  have  known  some  starved  — 
some  go  mad  —  one  dear  friend  literally 
dying  in  a  work-house.  O  !  you  know  not, 
may  you  never  know,  the  miseries  of  sub- 
sisting by  authorship  !  'T  is  a  pretty  ap-  A  pretty  «> 
pendage  to  situations  like  yours  or  mine,  t€ndagt- 
but  a  slavery  worse  than  all  slavery  to  be 
a  bookseller's  dependent ;  to  drudge  your 
brains  for  pots  of  ale  and  breasts  of  mut- 
ton ;  to  change  your  free  thoughts  and 


86  In  a  Club  Corner 

voluntary   numbers   for   ungracious    task- 
work !     The  booksellers  hate  us."     "  With 
the  greatest   possible    solicitude,"    urged 
Herder^      Herder,  "  avoid  authorship.     Too  early  or 

advice, 

immediately  employed,  it  makes  the  head 
waste  and  the  heart  empty ;  even  were 
there  no  other  worse  consequences.  A 
person  who  reads  only  to  print,  in  all 
probability  reads  amiss  ;  and  he  who  sends 
away  through  the  pen  and  the  press  every 
thought,  the  moment  it  occurs  to  him,  will 
in  a  short  time  have  sent  all  away,  and 
will  become  a  mere  journeyman  of  the 
printing-office,  a  compositor."  "Writing 
for  the  press,"  says  John  Stuart  Mill,  "  can- 
not be  recommended  as  a  permanent  re- 
source to  any  one  qualified  to  accomplish 
anything  in  the  higher  departments  of 
literature  or  thought  ;  not  only  on  account 
of  the  uncertainty  of  this  means  of  liveli- 
Some  views  hood,  especially  if  the  writer  has  a  con- 

ofMUPs. 

science  and  will  not  consent  to  serve  any 
opinions  except  his  own,  but  also  because 
the  writings  by  which  one  can  live  are  not 
the  writings  which  themselves  live,  and  are 
never  those  in  which  the  writer  does  his 
best.  Books  destined  to  form  future  think- 
ers take  too  much  time  to  write,  and  when 
written,  come,  in  general,  too  slowly  into 


In  a  Club  Corner  8j 

notice  and  repute  to  be  relied  on  for  sub- 
sistence." The  mother  of  Agassiz  —  a  re-  The  mot 
markable  woman  —  wrote  to  her  son  about  "to  h/r™ 
the  time  he  began  to  associate  with  Hum- 
boldt,  Cuvier,  and  other  eminent  natural- 
ists :  "  You  know  your  mother's  heart  too 
well  to  misunderstand  her  thought,  even 
should  its  expression  be  unacceptable  to 
you.  With  much  knowledge,  acquired  by 
assiduous  industry,  you  are  still  at  twenty- 
five  years  of  age  living  on  brilliant  hopes, 
in  relation,  it  is  true,  with  great  people, 
and  known  as  having  distinguished  talent. 
Now,  all  this  would  seem  to  be  delightful 
if  you  had  an  income  of  fifty  thousand 
francs ;  but,  in  your  position,  you  must 
absolutely  have  an  occupation  which  will 
enable  you  to  live,  and  free  you  from  the 
insupportable  weight  of  dependence  on 
others.  From  this  day  forward,  my  child, 
you  must  look  to  this  end  alone  if  you 
would  find  it  possible  to  pursue  honorably 
the  career  you  have  chosen.  Otherwise 
constant  embarrassments  will  so  limit  your 
genius,  that  you  will  fall  below  your  own 
capacity."  To  a  young  poet  without  for-  Voitaire 
tune  Voltaire  wrote :  " Think  first  to  im-  apoet.ne 
prove  your  circumstances.  First  live ; 
then  compose."  In  the  same  strain  is  the 


88  In  a  Club  Corner 

postscript  to  an  unpublished  letter  of 
scott  to  a  Walter  Scott's,  to  a  reverend  friend,  writ- 
jriend.  ten  at  the  time  he  was  hard  at  work  on 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  :  "  Will  you  ex- 
cuse my  offering  a  piece  of  serious  advice  ? 
Whatever  pleasure  you  may  find  in  litera- 
ture, beware  of  looking  to  it  as  a  profes- 
sion, but  seek  that  independence  to  which 
every  one  hopes  to  attain  by  studying  the 
branch  of  industry  which  lies  most  within 
your  reach.  In  this  case  you  may  pursue 
your  literary  amusements  honorably  and 
happily,  but  if  ever  you  have  to  look  to 
literature  for  an  absolute  and  necessary 
support,  you  must  be  degraded  by  the 
necessity  of  writing,  whether  you  feel  in- 
clined or  not,  and  besides  must  suffer  all 
the  miseries  of  a  precarious  and  dependent 
existence."  Pitch  low,  adapt  to  the  multi- 
tude, has  too  often  been  the  humiliating, 
mercenary  advice  of  publishers  to  authors. 
A  publisher  A  publisher  once  said  to  Froude :  "  Sir, 
if  you  wish  to  write  a  book  that  will  sell, 
consider  the  ladies'  maids.  Please  the 
ladies'  maids,  and  you  please  the  great 
reading  world."  "The  reason  why  these 
fellows  hate  us  [meaning  the  publishers] 
I  take  to  be,"  says  Lamb,  "that  contrary 
to  other  trades,  in  which  the  master  gets 


In  a  Club  Corner  89 

all  the  credit  (a  jeweler  or  silversmith  for 
instance),  and  the  journeyman,  who  really 
does  the  fine  work,  is  in  the  background ; 
in  our  work  the  world  gives  all  the  credit  The  world 

...  gives  credit, 

to  us,  whom  they  consider  as  their  journey- 
men, and  therefore  do  they  hate  us,  and 
cheat  us,  and  oppress  us,  and  would  wring 
the  blood  of  us  out,  to  put  another  sixpence 
in  their  mechanic  pouches."  At  literary 
dinners  the  health  of  Napoleon,  who  shot  Cam&u's 
a  publisher,  will  ever  be  a  standing  toast ; 
and  legends  will  continue  to  be  repeated 
as  to  the  existence  of  a  precious  edition  of 
the  Bible  in  which  the  misprint  occurs  — 
"  publishers  and  sinners." 


Previous  to  the  inauguration  of  Hum-  p 
boldt's  bust  in  Central  Park,  and  when  it  SI°"' 
was  announced  in  the  newspapers  that  Dr. 
Francis  Lieber  was  to  deliver  the  German 
speech,  a  friend  of  Lieber's  was  thus  ad- 
dressed by  a  car  acquaintance  who  pointed 
to  Lieber's  name  in  the  newspaper : 
"  Don  't  you  think  it  remarkable,  sir,  that  a 
man  like  Dr.  Lieber  should  publicly  speak 
for  that  Helmbold  and  his  Buchu  ? "  — 
meaning  the  then  conspicuous  patent  med- 
icine vender  and  his  commodity.  "  Helm- 
bold  must  pay  him  a  thundering  price  — 


In  a  Club  Corner 


A  little  co 
fused. 


A  dvised  to 
read  Plato. 


that  I  know."  The  platform  orator,  Mr. 
Parsons,  had  been  advertised  for  his  lecture 
on  the  great  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan. 
The  president  of  the  lecture  association, 
before  introducing  the  lecturer,  stated  to 
the  audience  that  "  it  had  been  deemed  ad- 
visable by  the  committee  to  change  the  pro- 
gramme for  the  evening ;  that  Mr.  Parsons 
would  not  lecture  upon  Richard  Brindle 
Sheridan,  but  would,  as  requested,  give  his 
lecture  upon  The  Mediterranean."  The 
impression  existed  with  a  good  many  that 
the  lecture  first  announced  was  upon  Sher- 
idan the  general;  they  had  had  enough 
of  him  ;  they  did  n't  want  a  war  speech, 
or  anything  of  the  kind ;  especially  they 
did  n't  want  to  hear  recited  again,  for  the 
thousandth  time,  Sheridan's  Ride.  One 
handsome  fellow,  handsomely  dressed,  with 
a  handsome  wife  on  his  arm  —  on  the  way 
to  the  lecture  —  was  heard  to  say,  that  he 
detested  Sheridan's  Ride ;  that  he  had 
heard  it  recited  so  often  he  had  thought 
he  would  never  hear  it  again  ;  but  he  sup- 
posed he  must  be  tortured  by  it  once  more. 
A  Yorksbireman  was  advised  to  read  some 
really  good  book,  and  Plato  was  mentioned 
as  likely  to  suit  him.  Afterward  he  was 
asked,  "  Well,  what  do  you  think  of  Plato  ?  " 


In  a  Club  Corner  91 

"  Plato  ?  O,  that  Plato  !  I  '11  tell  you  what 
I  think  of  him.  He 's  as  big  a  humbug  as 
ever  lived.  Why,  man,  Emerson  has  said 
it  all  before  him."  We  once  heard  a 
preacher  in  his  sermon  sweepingly  con- 
demn the  writings  of  Alexander  Pope  as  writings  of 
immoral  and  dangerous.  At  the  conclu- 
sion,  he  read  out,  and  effectively  too  —  to 
be  sung  by  the  congregation  —  the  beau- 
tiful hymn,  "  Vital  spark  of  heavenly  flame  ! 
Quit !  oh  quit,"  etc.  Sitting  one  day  in 
the  family  room  reading  The  Spectator,  a 
young  lady  of  the  neighborhood  came  in 
unexpectedly.  To  have  something  to  say, 
I  remarked,  after  greeting,  that  I  had  just 
picked  up  the  old  Spectator,  which  was  al- 
ways new  and  interesting  to  me.  "  Yes," 
responded  the  miss,  lispingly  ;  "  my  father 
subscribed"  for  a  copy  when  it  first  came 
out."  Not  knowing  that  the  precious  book 
was  published  in  London  a  century  before 
her  father  was  born,  and  at  the  slow  rate 
of  a  number  a  day.  Referring  casually, 
for  purpose  of  illustration,  to  the  habit  of 
Neander,  the  church  historian,  of  tearing 
unconsciously  the  feathery  part  of  a  quill  £ 
to  pieces  while  he  lectured,  a  pretentious 
fakty  at  the  other  end  of  the  table,  deter- 
mined not  to  conceal  her  learning,  inter- 


92  In  a  Club  Corner 

rupted,  with  the  utmost  sincerity,  by   ex- 
claiming,—  "That's  the  gentleman,  I  be- 
lieve, who  swam  the  Hellespont."     Thirty 
Thomas      years   ago   or   more   Thomas   Starr  King 
Ki^s        added  to  his  fame  as  a  pulpit  orator  by  de- 

fammalec-  .  A  J 

tttre.  livenng  throughout  the  country  a  lecture 
upon  Socrates.  A  gentleman  who  had 
heard  the  famous  lecture  in  the  neighbor- 
ing city,  was  speaking  of  it  with  enthusi- 
asm to  some  of  his  friends  in  one  of  the 
public  rooms  of  the  hotel  where  he  lived, 
when  a  self-conceited  ignoramus  and  moral 
bully  —  conspicuous  in  business  and 
church  circles  —  looking  for  all  the  world 
the  incarnation  of  virtue  and  wisdom,  but 
who  never  lost  an  opportunity  of  exposing 
his  ignorance  —  scattered  the  company  as 
if  a  bomb  had  exploded  in  their  midst,  by 
remarking,  with  the  greatest  complacency, 
— "  Mr.  King,  very  likely,  has  traveled 
amongst  the  Socrates  !  "  He  had  heard  of 
the  Japanese  and  Chinese  —  why  not  the 
Socrates ! 

SHAKE-  Was  n't  it  Madame  de  Stael  who  vexed 

Heine  by  asking  him,  "  What  do  you  think 
of  Shakespeare  ? "  "  She  might  as  well 
have  asked  me,"  wrote  the  indignant  poet 
afterward,  "what  I  thought  of  the  Uni- 


In  a  Club  Corner  93 

verse."  Blanco  White  tells  that  he  once 
possessed  a  little  pocket  edition  of  Shake- 
speare, in  several  small  volumes,  on  the 
margins  of  which  he  marked  with  pencil 
lines  the  passages  which  struck  him  with 
admiration.  At  first  a  few  passages  were 
marked,  —  some  happy  phrase,  having  to 
him,  a  foreigner,  often  more  force  than  to 
a  native  of  England,  was  noted.  Now  and 
then  something  that,  if  it  had  no  other 
right  to  particular  comment,  reminded  him 
of  the  poets  of  his  own  country.  Then 
would  come  one  of  those  wonderful  pas- 
sages which,  expressed  in  language  of  the 
utmost  simplicity,  reveal  secrets  of  our 
common  nature  with  almost  the  effect  of 
magic,  and  make  the  whole  world  akin. 
Line  after  line  —  scene  after  scene  was 
thus  noted,  till  the  margin  of  almost  every 
page  bore  traces  of  his  pencil.  A  friend  of 
James  T.  Fields  said  that  "reading  Cym- 
beline  through  a  margin  of  notes  is  like 
playing  the  pianoforte  with  mittens  on ; " 
and  she  was  fond  of  quoting  a  remark  once 
dropped  in  her  hearing  by  a  famous  ac- 
tress :  "  Shakespeare  sets  his  readers' 
souls  on  fire  with  flashes  of  genius ;  his 
commentators  follow  close  behind  with 
buckets  of  water  putting  out  the  flames." 


94  In  a  Club  Corner 

When  Bowdler  mentioned  his  scheme  of  a 
purified    Shakespeare  to  Dr.   Harrington, 
"  No,    no,    sir,"    said   the   old   gentleman, 
"  let  us,  when  we  have  the  woodcock,  en- 
joy the  little  trail  (entrails)  on  the  toast." 
Aremini*.    "I  remember,"  said   Henry  Irving,  "that 
2w/r-    at   one   of   the  revivals  of  Shakespearean 
plays  at  the  Lyceum,  a  gentleman  leaving 
the  theatre  was  heard  to  express  the  opin- 
ion that  the  play  was  not  a  bad  one  ;  that 
he  thought  it  might  have  a  tolerable  run, 
but  that  it  would  be  very  much  improved 
by  omitting  the  quotations.     The  play  was 
Macbeth."     Some  one  told  Fields  of  a  pre- 
tentious  woman   who   was  once  heard  to 
say  at  a  dinner-table,  that  she  had  "  never 
read  Shakespeare's  works  herself,  but  had 
always  entertained  the  highest  opinion  of 
him  as  a  man."     Which  called  out  M.  W., 
who  convulsed  the  little  group  by  relating 
A  comical    a  comical  story  of  venerable  Mr.  B.,  who 
believes  unqualifiedly  in  Boston  as  not  the 
hub  only,  but  the  forward  wheels  also,  of 
the  Universe.     The  excellent  old  gentle- 
man, having  confessed  that  he  had  never 
found  time,  during  his  busy  life,  to  read 
the  "  immortal  plays,"   was  advised  to  do 
so,   during  the  winter  then   approaching. 
In  the  spring  G.  called  on  the  estimabl 


In  a  Club  Corner  05 

citizen,  and  casually  asked  if  he  had  read 
any  of  the  plays  during  the  season  just 
passed.  Yes,  he  replied,  he  had  read 
them  all.  "  Do  you  like  them  ?"  returned  Asked  if  h* 

~        ,       ..  ,.         J  .  .  .         likedttu 

G.,  feeling  his  way  anxiously  to  an  opm-  plays. 
ion.  "  Like  them  ! "  replied  the  old  man, 
with  effusive  ardor;  "that  is  not  the  word, 
sir !  They  are  glorious,  sir ;  far  beyond 
my  expectation,  sir !  There  are  not  twenty 
men  in  Boston,  sir,  who  could  have  writ- 
ten these  plays  ! "  "I  take  an  interest, 
my  lord,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly,  with  a  faint 
smile,  "such  an  interest  in  the  drama." 
"Ye-es.  It's  very  interasting,"  replied 
Lord  Frederick  Verisopht.  "  I  'm  always 
ill  after  Shakespeare,"  said  Mrs.  Wititterly. 
"  I  scarcely  exist  the  next  day  ;  I  find  the 
reaction  so  very  great  after  a  tragedy,  my 
lord,  and  Shakespeare  is  such  a  delicious 
creature."  "Ye-es!"  replied  Lord  Fred- 
erick. "He  was  a  clayver  man."  On  the 
margin  of  an  old  folio  copy  of  Shake- 
speare's plays  was  found  this  note  by  the 
poet  Keats:  "The  genius  of  Shakespeare  AV<WJ'«- 

r  .        timate. 

was  an  innate  universality ;  wherefore  he 
laid  the  achievements  of  human  intellect 
prostrate  beneath  his  indolent  and  kingly 
gaze.  He  could  do  easily  men's  utmost. 
His  plan  of  tasks  to  come  was  not  of  this 


g6  In  a  Club  Corner 

world.  If  what  he  proposed  to  do  here- 
after would  not  in  the  idea  answer  the  aim, 
how  tremendous  must  have  been  his  con- 
ception of  ultimates  !  " 

PARADOXES.  There  are  truths  and  facts,  so  strange 
and  absurd,  that,  state  them  how  you  may, 
they  seem  paradoxical.  Lieutenant  Ray 
gives  some  very  remarkable  experiences  in 
the  Arctic  region.  In  excavating  the  fro- 
zen earth  he  found  it  harder  to  work  than 
granite.  Powder  had  no  effect  whatever 
upon  it,  and  when  a  blast  was  inserted  it 
would  always  "  blow  out."  The  drills  used 
were  highly  tempered,  but  in  a  few  hours 
at  farthest  the  tempering  was  gone.  He 
found  that  the  extreme  cold  had  the  same 
effect  on  tempered  steel  as  extreme  heat. 
The  steel  would  lose  its  temper,  become 
softened,  and  bend  easily.  De  Tocque- 
ville  thought  it  astonishing  that  the  masses 
should  find  their  position  the  more  intoler- 
able the  more  it  is  improved.  It  has  been 
remarked  upon  as  curious  that  Guizot, 
from  whose  lectures  Mazzini  said  he  first 
learned  to  love  civil  and  religious  liberty, 
should  have  "  truckled  to  the  base  measures 
of  Louis  Philippe."  Strange  that  in  Ar- 
cadia ninety-five  per  cent,  of  the  inhabit- 


In  a  Club  Corner  97 

ants  should  be  unable  to  read  and  write ; 
that  in  Venice,  a  city  built  upon  the  water, 
water  to  drink  should  sell  for  a  penny  a 
glass ;  that  the  beautiful  valleys  of  Switz-  Switzerland 
erland  should  be  infected  with  such  a  dis-  *  £ot  * 
gusting  disease  as  goitre ;  that  in  Spain, 
where  all  men  smoke,  and  most  women, 
the  culture  of  tobacco  should  be  forbidden 
by  law.  It  is  an  historical  fact  that  a  fugi- 
tive slave  was  the  founder  of  Virginia.  It 
is  believed  in  England  that  the  famous 
commodore  in  the  American  navy,  John 
Paul  Jones,  was  once  horsewhipped  by  a 
British  officer, — Jones  being  pronounced 
a  poltroon.  In  Buckle's  note-book  is  this : 
"  Wrote  account  of  bad  emperors  favoring 
Christianity  and  the  good  emperors  perse- 
cuting it."  And  this  :  "  Began  and  finished 
notes  of  '  Spain '  and  '  Inquisition,'  to 
prove  that  morals  have  not  diminished  per- 
secution." The  Czar  (Alexander  II.)  who  Alexander 
emancipated  the  serfs  was  assassinated  Tur 
in  the  name  of  liberty  ;  and  the  novel- 
ist (Turgenieff)  whose  humanity  was  his 
glory  was  an  exile  from  his  country  by 
the  direction  of  the  Emperor  (Alexander 
II.)  who  admired  him  and  was  governed 
by  him  in  great  works,  because  the  liber- 
alism of  the  author  was  too  much  for  the 


g8  In  a  Club  Corner 

imperialism  of  the  Russian  system.  Tre- 
lawny  wrote  of  Shelley  after  seeing  him 
the  first  time :  "  I  was  silent  from  as- 
tonishment ;  was  it  possible  this  mild- 
ard-  looking,  beardless  boy  could  be  the  veri- 

monster  f  table  monster  at  war  with  all  the  world  ? 
—  excommunicated  by  the  Fathers  of  the 
Church,  deprived  of  his  civil  rights  by  the 
fiat  of  a  grim  Lord  Chancellor,  discarded 
by  every  member  of  his  family,  and  de- 
nounced by  the  rival  sages  of  our  literature 
as  the  founder  of  a  Satanic  school."  Yet 
"  we  have  only  to  read  Shelley's  Essays  on 
Christianity,"  says  Symonds,  in  his  biog- 
raphy of  the  poet,  "in  order  to  perceive 
what  reverent  admiration  he  felt  for  Jesus, 
and  how  profoundly  he  understood  the 
true  character  of  his  teaching.  That  work, 
brief  as  it  is,  forms  one  of  the  most  valu- 

A  co»trau.  able  extant  contributions  to  a  sound  the- 
ology,  and  is  morally  far  in  advance  of  the 
opinions  expressed  by  many  who  regard 
themselves  as  especially  qualified  to  speak 
on  the  subject.  It  is  certain  that  as  Chris- 
tianity passes  beyond  its  mediaeval  phase, 
and  casts  aside  the  husk  of  outworn  dog- 
mas, it  will  more  and  more  approximate  to 
Shelley's  exposition.  Here  and  there  only 
is  a  vital  faith,  adapted  to  the  conditions 


In  a  Club  Corner  99 

of  modern  thought,  indestructible  because 
essential,  and  fitted  to  unite  instead  of 
separating  minds  of  diverse  quality.  It 
may  sound  paradoxical  to  claim  for  Shelley 

,      .,  .  ....  .  .       .  icalclaim. 

of  all  men  a  clear  insight  into  the  enduring 
elements  of  the  Christian  creed;  but  it 
was  precisely  his  detachment  from  all  its 
accidents  which  enabled  him  to  discern  its 
spiritual  purity,  and  placed  him  in  a  true 
relation  to  the  Founder.  For  those  who 
would  neither  on  the  one  hand  relinquish 
what  is  permanent  in  religion,  nor  yet  on 
the  other  deny  the  inevitable  conclusions 
of  modern  thought,  his  teaching  is  indubi- 
tably valuable.  His  fierce  tirades  against 
historic  Christianity  must  be  taken  as 
directed  against  an  ecclesiastical  system 
of  spiritual  tyranny,  hypocrisy,  and  super- 
stition,  which,  in  his  opinion,  had  retarded 
the  growth  of  free  institutions,  and  fet- 
tered the  human  intellect.  Like  Cam- 
panella,  he  distinguished  between  Christ, 
who  sealed  the  gospel  of  charity  with  his 
blood,  and  those  Christians  who  would  be 
the  first  to  crucify  their  Lord  if  he  re- 
turned to  the  earth."  Doran,  in  his  Table 
Traits,  attributes  to  a  clergyman  the  ac- 
cidental invention  of  bottled  ale.  Dean 
Nowell  was  out  fishing,  with  a  bottle  of  the 


ioo  In  a  Club  Corner 

freshly-drawn  beverage  at  his  side,  when 
intelligence  reached  him  touching  the  peril 
his  life  was  in  under  Mary,  which  made 
him  fly,  after  flinging  away  his  rod  and 
o^n  Of  thrusting  his  bottle  of  ale  under  the  grass. 

bottled  (lie* 

When  he  could  again  safely  resort  to  the 
same  spot,  he  looked  for  his  bottle,  which, 
on  being  disturbed,  drove  out  the  cork  like 
a  pellet  from  a  gun,  and  contained  so 
creamy  a  fluid,  that  the  dean,  noting  the 
fact,  and  rejoicing  therein,  took  care  to  be 
well  provided  with  the  same  thencefor- 
ward. We  have  it  upon  the  authority  of 
Morley  that  one  of  Burke's  chief  pane- 
gyrists, who  calls  him  one  of  the  greatest 
of  men,  and,  Bacon  alone  excepted,  the 
greatest  thinker  who  ever  devoted  himself 
to  the  practice  of  English  politics,  oddly 
enough  insists  upon  it  that  this  great  man 
and  great  thinker  was  actually  out  of  his 
mind  when  he  composed  the  pieces  for 
which  he  has  been  most  admired  and  re- 
s<mnet,  TO  vered.  It  is  curious  that  the  finest  sonnet 
in  the  English  language,  in  the  judgment 
of  Coleridge  and  other  eminent  critics, 
should  have  been  written  by  a  Spaniard. 
It  has  been  remarked  as  not  a  little  singu- 
lar that  the  house  in  Cheyne-row,  Chelsea, 
so  long  the  home  of  Carlyle,  the  great  de- 


In  a  Club  Corner  101 

nouncer  of  quacks,  should  have  become  the 
property  of  a  quack  medicine  proprietor. 
On  her  way  to  prison,  one  of  the  officers 
said  to  Madame  Roland,  brutally,  "Your 
husband's  flight  is  a  proof  of  his  guilt." 
She  indignantly  replied  :  "  It  is  so  atrocious 
to  persecute  a  man  who  has  rendered 
such  services  to  the  cause  of  liberty.  His 
conduct  has  been  so  open  and  his  accounts 
so  clear,  that  he  is  perfectly  justifiable  in 
avoiding  the  last  outrages  of  envy  and 
malice.  Just  as  Aristides,  and  inflexible 
as  Cato,  he  is  indebted  to  his  virtues  for 
his  enemies.  Let  them  satiate  their  fury 
upon  me.  I  defy  their  power,  and  devote 
myself  to  death.  He  ought  to  save  him- 
self for  the  sake  of  his  country,  to  which 
he  may  yet  do  good."  Sainte-Beuve  char- 
acterizes Cowper  as  essentially  the  family 
poet,  though  he  had  never  been  a  husband  famUy*oei' 
or  a  father  ;  the  poet  of  the  home,  of  the 
ordered,  pure,  softly  animated  interior,  of 
the  grove  seen  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden, 
or  of  the  fireside.  Tycho  Brahe,  afraid  of 
casting  a  stain  upon  his  nobility  by  pub- 
lishing his  observations  on  a  new  star,  did 
not  scruple  to  debase  his  lineage  by  mar- 
rying a  servant-girl.  Hood  saw  on  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence's  easel  an  unfinished 


IO2  In  a  Club  Comer 

head  of  Wilberforce,  so  very  merry,  so 
rosy,  so  good-fellowish,  that  nothing  less 
than  the  Life  and  Correspondence  just  pub- 
lished could  have  persuaded  him  that  he 
was  really  a  serious  character.  Peterbor- 
ough,  though  an  avowed  free-thinker,  sat 
up  all  night  at  sea,  Macaulay  tells  us,  to 
compose  sermons,  and  was  with  difficulty 
prevented  from  edifying  the  crew  of  a  man- 
of-war  with  his  pious  oratory.  The  widow 
of  Nicholas  Rowe  received  a  pension  from 
the  crown,  "  in  consideration,"  not  of  his 
dramatic  genius,  but  "  of  the  translation  of 
Lucan's  Pharsalia."  That  famous  trea- 
tise, The  Religio  Medici,  now  understood 
to  have  been  written  by  Sir  Thomas 
Browne  for  his  own  edification,  was  pub- 
lished surreptitiously  by  the  printer.  Feni- 
more  Cooper,  in  an  interview  with  Sir 
Charles  Murray,  who  in  early  life  spent  a 
year  among  the  Pawnees,  remarked  to 
him,  alluding  to  the  publication  of  The 
Prairie  Bird,  "  You  have  had  the  advantage 
of  me,  for  I  was  never  among  the  Indians. 
ns.  All  that  I  know  of  them  is  from  reading 
and  from  hearing  my  father  speak  of  them. 
He  saw  a  great  deal  of  the  red  men  when 
he  first  went  to  the  western  part  of  the 
State  of  New  York  about  the  close  of  the 


In  a  Club  Corner  103 

past   century."     Bruce,  the    traveler,  was 
scarcely  believed  in  as  a  narrator  of  facts  ;  A  truthful 

,  .       '  ,  ,  traveler  of- 

but  he  was  accepted  as  a  sort  of  gigantic  cepted^a 
liar,  whose  achievements  in  that  way  were  $£?. 
worthy  of  respect.  An  old  Scotch  lady 
who  knew  him  said  that  even  in  the  society 
in  which  he  was  welcome,  his  African 
stories  were  never  believed,  though  the 
credibility  of  them  has  since  been  abun- 
dantly established.  "  I  was  present  in  a 
large  company,"  said  Horace  Walpole,  "at 
dinner,  when  Bruce  was  talking  away. 
Some  one  asked  him  what  musical  instru- 
ments were  used  in  Abyssinia.  Bruce 
hesitated,  not  being  prepared  for  the  ques- 
tion :  and  at  last  said,  '  I  think  I  saw  one 
lyre  there.'  George  Selwyn  whispered  his 
next  man,  '  Yes ;  and  there  is  one  less 
since  he  left  the  country.'  "  It  is  referred 
to  as  a  curious  fact  that,  although  dramatic 
composition  requires  more  worldly  experi- 
ence and  knowledge  of  human  nature  than 
any  other,  almost  all  our  best  comedies  ourtest 

-  comedies 

have   been    written   by   very  young  men.  -written  by 
Those  of  Congreve  were  all  produced  be-  y°' 
fore  he  was   five   and  twenty.     Farquhar 
composed    The   Constant    Couple   in   his 
twenty-second  year,  and   died    at    thirty. 
Vanbrugh  was   a  young  ensign  when  he 


1O4 


In  a  Club  Corner 


Haydn. 


Hogarth. 


Michel  At 
gelo. 


Daniel 
Webster 


sketched  out  The  Relapse  and  The  Pro- 
voked Wife,  and  Sheridan  reached  the  sum- 
mit of  his  dramatic  reputation  at  twenty- 
six.  Haydn  thought  it  unfortunate  that 
circumstances  had  led  him  so  preponder- 
antly into  the  field  of  instrumental  compo- 
sition, rather  than  into  that  of  operatic 
writing.  Hogarth  persisted  to  the  last  in 
believing  that  the  world  was  in  a  con- 
spiracy against  him  with  respect  to  his 
talents  as  a  historical  painter,  and  that  a 
set  of  miscreants,  as  he  called  them,  were 
employed  to  run  his  genius  down.  When 
Michel  Angelo  proposed  to  fortify  his  na- 
tive city,  Florence,  and  was  desired  to  keep 
to  his  painting  and  sculpture,  he  answered 
that  those  were  his  recreations,  but  what  he 
really  understood  was  architecture.  They 
say  it  was  Liston's  firm  belief  that  he  was 
a  great  and  neglected  tragic  actor;  it  is 
said,  too,  that  every  one  of  us  believes  in 
his  heart,  or  would  like  to  have  others  be- 
lieve, that  he  is  something  which  he  is  not. 
"At  school,"  said  Daniel  Webster,  "there 
was  one  thing  I  could  not  do.  I  could  not 
make  a  declamation.  I  could  not  speak 
before  the  school."  Boswell  said  we  must 
not  estimate  a  man's  powers  by  his  being 
able  or  not  able  to  deliver  his  sentiments  in 


In  a  Club  Corner  105 

public.  Isaac  Hawkins  Browne,  one  of  the 
first  wits  in  Great  Britain,  got  into  Par- 
liament, and  never  opened  his  mouth.  Sel- 
wyn,  the  man  renowned  for  social  wit,  was 
utterly  deficient  in  the  gift  of  oratory.  He 
sat  forty  years  in  Parliament  for  Glouces- 
ter, and  never  spoke  on  any  question. 
Addison,  versed  in  all  literature,  and  so 
familiar  with  the  oratorical  remains  of  the 
ancients,  is  known  to  have  been  unable  to 
conclude  a  speech  that  he  had  begun.  Dr. 
Johnson  said  that  Garrick,  though  accus- 
tomed  to  face  multitudes,  when  produced 
as  a  witness  in  Westminster  Hall,  was  so 
disconcerted  by  a  new  mode  of  public  ap- 
pearance, that  he  could  not  understand 
what  was  asked.  He  told  Sir  William 
Scott  that  he  himself  had  several  times 
tried  to  speak  in  the  Society  of  Arts  and 
Sciences,  but  "  had  found  he  could  not  get 
on."  William  Gerard  Hamilton  told  Bos- 
well  that  Johnson  had  observed  to  him 
that  it  was  prudent  for  a  man  who  had 
not  been  accustomed  to  speak  in  public,  to 
begin  in  as  simple  a  manner  as  possible 
a  speech  which  he  had  prepared  ;  "  but," 
added  he,  "all  my  flowers  of  oratory  for- 
sook me."  Olivet,  in  his  History  of  the 
French  Academy,  says  that  La  Rochefou- 


io6  In  a  Club  Corner 

La  Rocht-  cauld  could  not  summon  resolution,  at  his 
election,  to  address  the  Academy.  Al- 
though chosen  a  member,  he  never  en- 
tered ;  for  such  was  his  timidity,  that  he 
could  not  face  an  audience  and  pronounce 
the  usual  compliment  on  his  introduction  ; 
he  whose  courage,  whose  birth,  and  whose 

smoiiett.  genius  were  alike  distinguished.  Smollett, 
who  malignantly  criticised  Garrick  in  Rod- 
erick Random  and  Peregrine  Pickle,  labo- 
riously panegyrized  him  in  his  History, 
telling  him  in  a  letter  that  "he  thought  it 
a  duty  incumbent  on  him  to  make  a  public 
atonement,  in  a  work  of  truth,  for  the 
wrongs  done  him  in  a  work  of  fiction."  It 

Monies-  is  said  of  Montesquieu  that  he  was  so  much 
affected  by  the  criticisms  which  he  daily 
experienced  that  they  contributed  to  hasten 
his  death.  The  public  schools  of  France, 

Irving  we  believe,  make  use  of  Irving's  Sketch 
Book  as  a  text-book  in  English,  yet  the 
illustrious  author  confessed  his  sufferings 
from  the  opinion  of  a  Philadelphia  critic, 
who,  on  reviewing  The  Sketch  Book,  on  its 
first  appearance,  said  that  Rip  Van  Winkle 
was  a  silly  attempt  at  humor  quite  un- 
worthy of  the  author's  genius. 


In  a  Club  Corner  107 

Lamb  said,  "He  who  thought  it  not  SOUTUDH. 
good  for  man  to  be  alone  preserve  me 
from  the  more  prodigious  monstrosity  of 
being  never  by  myself  !  "  Byron  said,  "  All 
the  world  are  to  be  at  Madame  de  Stael's 
to-night,  and  I  am  not  sorry  to  escape  any 
part  of  it.  I  only  go  out  to  get  me  a  fresh 
appetite  for  being  alone."  "  In  the  world," 
said  De  Senancour,  "a  man  lives  in  his 
own  age;  in  solitude  in  all  ages."  "Con- 
versation," observes  Gibbon,  "  enriches  the 
understanding,  but  solitude  is  the  school 
of  genius."  "  Solitude,"  as  Lowell  ex- 
presses it,  "  is  as  needful  to  the  imagination 
as  society  is  wholesome  to  the  character." 


"  Solitude,"  says  De  Quincey,  "  though  acter. 
silent  as  light,  is,  like  light,  the  mightiest 
of  agencies  ;  for  solitude  is  essential  to 
man.  All  men  come  into  this  world  alone  ; 
all  leave  it  alone.  Even  a  little  child  has 
a  dread,  whispering  consciousness,  that  if 
he  should  be  summoned  to  travel  into 
God's  presence,  no  gentle  nurse  will  be 
allowed  to  lead  him  by  the  hand,  nor 
mother  to  carry  him  in  her  arms,  nor  little 
sister  to  share  his  trepidations.  King  and 
priest,  warrior  and  maiden,  philosopher  and 
child,  all  must  walk  those  mighty  galleries 
alone.  How  much  this  fierce  condition  of 


io8  In  a  Club  Corner 

eternal  hurry  upon  an  arena  too  exclusively 

human  in  its  interests  is  likely  to  defeat 

the  grandeur  which  is  latent  in  all  men, 

Tkeordina-  may  be  seen  in  the  ordinary  effect  from 

ry  effect  of     . .     .  .  .     - 

too  much  living  too  constantly  in  varied  company. 
The  word  dissipation,  in  one  of  its  uses, 
expresses  that  effect ;  the  action  of  thought 
and  feeling  is  too  much  dissipated  and 
squandered.  To  reconcentrate  them  into 
meditative  habits,  a  necessity  is  felt  by  all 
observing  persons  for  sometimes  retiring 
from  crowds.  No  man  ever  will  unfold  the 
capacities  of  his  own  intellect  who  does  not 
at  least  checker  his  life  with  solitude. 
He™  much  How  much  solitude,  so  much  power."  Late 
tnuchpmuer.  in  life,  Sydney  Smith  wrote :  "  Living  a 
great  deal  alone  (as  I  now  do)  will,  I  be- 
lieve, correct  me  of  my  faults,  for  a  man 
can  do  without  his  own  approbation  in 
much  society;  but  he  must  make  great 
exertions  to  gain  it  when  he  is  alone  ;  with- 
out it,  I  am  convinced,  solitude  is  not  to  be 
endured."  Klopstock,  in  his  Messiah,  ex- 
presses it :  "  Solitude  holds  a  cup  sparkling 
with  bliss  in  her  right  hand,  a  raging  dag- 
ger in  her  left ;  to  the  blest  she  offers  her 
goblet,  but  stretches  towards  the  wretch 
the  ruthless  steel."  Julian  Hawthorne, 
writing  of  his  father,  says  that  not  even 


In  a  Club  Corner  109 

the  author's  wife  ever  saw  him  in  the  act 
of  writing.  He  had  to  be  alone.  Years 
after  The  Scarlet  Letter  was  published,  the 
author  revisited  the  solitary  upper  room  in 
which  it  was  written,  and  entered  in  his 
note-book,  "  In  this  dismal  chamber  fame 
was  won."  Balzac,  when  he  had  thought 
out  one  of  his  philosophical  romances,  and 
amassed  his  materials,  retired  to  his  study, 
and  from  that  time  until  his  book  was 
finished,  society  saw  him  no  more.  When 
he  appeared  again  among  his  friends  he 
looked  like  his  own  ghost.  Lincoln,  it  is  Lincoln. 
said,  had  a  habit  of  occasionally  spending  a 
whole  day  by  himself  in  the  broad  prairie 
under  the  blue  expanse  of  heaven,  which 
gave  to  his  face,  for  a  time  afterwards, 
a  certain  expression  of  otherworldliness. 
The  only  pulpit  orator  who  ever  helped 
me  to  a  conception  of  the  patriarchs  and 
prophets  was  a  circuit-rider  who  read  his 
Bible  in  the  wilderness.  Jesus  went  up 
into  the  mountain  alone  to  pray.  Moses  Moses. 
was  buried  in  a  lost  ravine  :  "  angels  were 
his  pall-bearers,  and  God  Almighty  dug  his 
grave."  No  man  knoweth  his  sepulchre 
unto  this  day. 


no  In  a  Club  Corner 

STYLB.  Read,   says   Southey,    all    the   treatises 

upon  composition  that  ever  were  composed, 
and  you  will  find  nothing  which  conveys 
so  much  useful  instruction  as  the  account 
given  by  John  Wesley  of  his  own  way  of 
writing.  "  I  never  think  of  my  style," 
says  he,  "but  just  set  down  the  words  that 
come  first.  Only  when  I  transcribe  any- 
thing for  the  press,  then  I  think  it  my  duty 
to  see  that  every  phrase  be  clear,  pure,  and 
proper :  conciseness,  which  is  now  as  it 
were  natural  to  me,  brings  quantum  sufficit 
of  strength.  If  after  all  I  observe  any 
stiff  expression,  I  throw  it  out,  neck  and 
shoulders."  "The  ultimate  rule  is,"  said 
Carlyle :  "  learn  so  far  as  possible  to  be 
intelligible  and  transparent — no  notice 
taken  of  your  style,  but  solely  of  what  you 
express  by  it."  "  Remember,"  says  Cow- 
per,  "  that,  in  writing,  perspicuity  is  always 
more  than  half  the  battle.  The  want  of  it 
is  the  ruin  of  more  than  half  the  poetry 
that  is  published.  A  meaning  that  does 
not  stare  you  in  the  face  is  as  bad  as  no 
meaning,  because  nobody  will  take  the 
pains  to  poke  for  it."  "  Clear  writers,  like 
clear  fountains,"  wrote  Landor,  "do  not 
seem  so  deep  as  they  are  :  the  turbid  look 
the  most  profound."  "  In  composing,  as  a 


In  a  Club  Corner  in 

general  rule,"  advised  Sydney  Smith,  "  run 
your  pen  through  every  other  word  you 
have  written  ;  you  have  no  idea  what  vigor 
it  will  give  your  style."  Bacon,  it  has  been 
well  said,  packs  his  meaning  till  the  plain 
words  take  on  an  air  of  enigma  from  their 
very  excess  of  significance  ;  it  is  a  con- 
densed speech,  —  a  dialect  borrowed  from 
the  gods.  "  The  best  passages  in  our  chief 
prose  writers,  no  less  than  in  our  poets,  are 
where  the  phraseology  has  become  orac- 
ular; the  verbiage  grows  wiser  than  the 
thoughts,  more  tender  than  the  feelings; 
and  the  man  who  falls  into  this  trance  of 
language  is  himself  the  most  amazed  at 
the  glory  and  the  beauty  of  the  utterance." 
"  A  style  grows  from  within,  and  forms 
only  round  a  nucleus  of  thought."  "  Lan- 
guage is  part  of  a  man's  character."  "A 
good  writer  does  not  write  as  people  write, 
but  as  he  writes."  "The  sentences  of  Sen-  Tke&n- 
eca  are  stimulating  to  the  intellect ;  the  s?£ca, 

r  i-^     •  •  r     •  Epictetrts, 

sentences  of  Epictetus  are  fortifying  to  the  a>idMara 

.     _,  .          Aurelius. 

character ;  the  sentences  of  Marcus  Au- 
relius find  their  way  to  the  soul."  Carlyle, 
in  describing  the  style  of  Marquis  Mirabeau 
(father  of  the  great  Mirabeau),  gives  a 
pretty  good  description  of  his  own :  "  Mar- 
quis Mirabeau  had  the  indisputablest  ideas ; 


112 


In  a  Club  Corner 


gest  of  styles. 


Teu/els- 

drdckh. 


but  then  his  style  !  In  very  truth,  it  is  the 
The  stran-  strangest  of  styles,  though  one  of  the  rich- 
est :  a  style  full  of  originality,  picturesque- 
ness,  sunny  vigor  ;  but  all  cased  and  slated 
over,  threefold,  in  metaphor  and  trope ; 
distracted  into  tortuosities,  dislocations ; 
starting  out  into  crotchets,  cramp  turns, 
quaintnesses,  and  hidden  satire  ;  which  the 
French  had  no  ear  for.  Strong  meat,  too 
tough  for  babes  ! "  So  it  was  that  England 
had  at  first  no  palate  for  his  own  strong, 
tough  meat.  He  wrote  in  his  Journal : 
"  Literature  still  all  a  mystery ;  nothing 
'paying';  Teufelsdrockh  beyond  measure 
unpopular.  An  oldest  subscriber  came  in 
to  Fraser  and  said,  '  If  there  is  any  more 
of  that  damned  stuff,  I  will,  etc.,  etc.' ;  on 
the  other  hand,  an  order  from  America 
(Boston  or  Philadelphia)  to  send  a  copy  of 
the  magazine  'so  long  as  there  was  any- 
thing of  Carlyle's  in  it.' "  Napier  un- 
expectedly, and  even  gratefully,  accepted 
Characteristics,  Froude  tells  ps.  He  con- 
fessed that  he  could  not  understand  it ;  but 
anything  which  Carlyle  wrote,  he  said,  had 
the  indubitable  stamp  of  genius  upon  it, 
and  was  therefore  most  welcome  in  the 
Edinburgh  Review.  Charles  Sumner  ob- 
served to  Lord  Jeffrey  that  he  thought 


Character- 
istics. 


In  a  Club  Corner  113 

Carlyle  had  changed  his  style  since  he 
wrote  the  article  on  Burns.  "  Not  at  all," 
said  Jeffrey  ;  "  I  will  tell  you  why  that  it 
is  different  from  the  other  articles  —  I 
altered  it."  "  T  is  a  good  rule  of  rhetoric," 
thought  Emerson,  "which  Schlegel  gives —  * 
'  In  good  prose  every  word  is  underscored ' ; 
which,  I  suppose  means,  never  italicize. 
Dr.  Channing's  piety  and  wisdom  had  such 
weight  that,  in  Boston,  the  popular  idea  of 
religion  was  whatever  this  eminent  divine 
held.  But  I  remember  that  his  best  friend, 
a  man  of  guarded  lips,  speaking  of  him  in 
a  circle  of  admirers,  said  :  '  I  have  known 
him  long,  I  have  studied  his  character,  and 
I  believe  him  capable  of  virtue."  An  emi- 
nent French  journalist  paid  a  high  compli- 
ment to  the  Duke  of  Wellington,  when  his 
documents  were  published :  '  Here  are 
twelve  volumes  of  military  dispatches,  and 
the  word  glory  is  not  found  in  one  of 
them.'"  "Right  words  in  right  places,"  Right-word* 
was  Daniel  Webster's  idea  of  style,  which 
he  came  as  near  realizing  as  any  one  ;  for 
even  the  fastidious  Samuel  Rogers  was 
free  to  say  that  he  knew  nothing  in  the 
English  language  so  well  written  as  Mr. 
Webster's  letter  to  Lord  Ashburton  on  the 
subject  of  the  impressment  of  seamen.  Of 


n  4  In  a  Club  Corner 

Montaigne  and  his  style,  Emerson  says : 
"  The  sincerity  and  marrow  of  the  man 
reaches  to  his  sentences.  I  know  not  any- 
where the  book  that  seems  less  written. 
It  is  the  language  of  conversation  trans- 
ferred to  a  book.  Cut  these  words  and 
they  would  bleed ;  they  are  vascular  and 
alive." 

PUBLIC  Examples  without   doubt  may  be  cited 

SPEAKING.         ,  .  ,        ,  .  ... 

of  great  writers  who  have  been  illustrious 
as  speakers ;  but  it  is  a  general  truth,  that 
to  write  a  book  is  a  bad  preparation  for 
public  and  premeditated  speaking.  Liter- 
ary labor,  as  judiciously  observed,  is  reg- 
ular and  methodical.  The  writer  proposes 
to  himself  an  ideal  perfection,  inconsistent 
with  the  unforeseen  or  accidental  turn  of  a 
debate.  Almost  all  the  merits  of  a  book 
are  defects  in  a  speech.  A  great  book  is 
written  for  the  future.  A  speech  is  made 
for  the  present.  Its  business  is  the  busi- 
ness of  to-day.  A  book  is  thought;  a 
speech  is  action.  What  is  explained  in  a 
FOX'S  auer-  book  is  only  hinted  at  in  a  debate.  Fox 
asserted  that  if  a  speech  read  well  it  was 
not  a  good  speech.  A  speech  is  to  be 
heard  and  not  read.  Lysias,  says  Plutarch, 
wrote  a  defense  for  a  man  who  was  to  be 


In  a  Club  Corner  115 

tried  before  one  of  the  Athenian  tribunals. 
Long  before  the  defendant  had  learned  the 
speech  by  heart,  he  became  so  much  dissat-  Dissatisfied 
isfied  with  it  that  he  went  in  great  distress  Speech, e 
to  the  author.  "  I  was  delighted  with  your 
speech  the  first  time  I  read  it ;  but  I  liked 
it  less  the  second  time,  and  still  less  the 
third  time ;  and  now  it  seems  to  be  ~no 
defense  at  all."  "  My  good  friend,"  said 
Lysias,  "you  quite  forget  that  the  judges 
are  to  hear  it  only  once."  When  Dr. 
Johnson  furnished  Boswell  with  the  ma- 
terials for  an  address  to  a  committee  of  the 
House  of  Commons  on  an  election  petition 
he  added,  "  This  you  must  enlarge  on. 
You  must  not  argue  there  as  if  you  were 
arguing  in  the  schools.  You  must  say  the 
same  thing  over  and  over  again,  in  differ- 
ent words.  If  you  say  it  but  once,  they 
miss  it  in  a  moment  of  inattention."  The 
masters  of  eloquence  have  enforced  the 
rule.  It  was  an  axiom  of  Thiers'  that  when 
a  speaker  wants  to  carry  away  a  stolid 
assembly  or  uncultured  mass,  he  should 
often  present  the  same  argument,  but  each 
time  in  a  new  verbal  dress.  Therefore  he 
did  not  fear  "  repeating  himself,  but  was 
careful  to  vary  the  form  of  his  repetitions. 
Fox  advised  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  when 


/ 1 6  In  a  Club  Corner 

about  to  sum  up  the  evidence  in  Lord  Mel- 
ville's trial,  "  not  to  be  afraid  of  repeating 
observations  which  were  material,  since  it 
were  better  that  some  of  the  audience 
should  observe  it  than  that  any  should  not 
understand."  Though  he  himself  was  cen- 
sured for  the  practice,  he  declared  it  to  be 
his  conviction,  from  long  experience,  that 
the  system  was  right.  Pitt  urged  a  similar 
defense  for  the  amplification  which  was 
thought  by  some  to  be  a  defect  in  his  style. 
"Every  person,"  he  said,  "who  addressed 
a  public  assembly,  and  was  anxious  to  make 
an  impression  upon  particular  points,  must 
either  be  copious  upon  those  points  or 
repeat  them,  and  that  he  preferred  copious- 
ness to  repetition."  Lord  Brougham  gives 
his  testimony  on  the  same  side.  The 
orator,  he  remarks,  often  feels  that  he 
could  add  strength  to  his  composition  by 
compression,  but  his  hearers  would  then 
be  unable  to  keep  pace  with  him,  and  he  is 
compelled  to  sacrifice  conciseness  to  clear- 
EnkinSs  ness.  Erskine's  great  artifice,  we  are  told, 
lay  in  his  frequent  repetitions.  He  had 
one  or  two  leading  arguments  and  facts  on 
which  he  was  constantly  dwelling.  But 
then  he  had  marvelous  skill  in  varying  his 
phraseology,  so  that  no  one  was  sensible 


In  a  Club  Corner  117 

of  tautology  in  the  expressions.  Like  the 
doubling  of  a  hare,  he  was  perpetually 
coming  to  his  old  place.  Landor,  in  one 
of  his  Imaginary  Conversations,  makes  Per- 

Alcibiades. 

icles  say  to  Alcibiades,  that,  "When  we 
have  much  to  say,  the  chief  difficulty  is  to 
hold  back  some  favorite  thought,  which 
presses  to  come  on  before  its  time,  and 
thereby  makes  a  confusion  in  the  rest.  If 
you  are  master  of  your  temper,  and  con- 
scious of  your  superiority,  the  words  and 
thoughts  will  keep  their  ranks,  and  will 
come  into  action  with  all  their  energy, 
compactness,  and  weight.  Never  attempt 
to  alter  your  natural  tone  of  voice ;  never 
raise  it  above  its  pitch  :  let  it  at  first  be 
somewhat  low  and  slow.  This  appears 
like  diffidence ;  and  men  are  obliged  to 
listen  the  more  attentively,  that  they  may 
hear  it.  Beginning  with  attention,  they 
will  retain  it  through  the  whole  speech ; 
but  attention  is,  with  difficulty,  caught  in 
the  course  of  one."  But  intense  interest 
and  profound  feeling  are  also  necessary  to  Desiderata, 
effective  oratory.  An  eminent  English- 
man said  to  Hawthorne  that  Sir  Lytton 
Bulwer  asked  him  whether  he  heard  his 
heart  beat  when  he  was  going  to  speak. 
"  Yes."  "  Does  your  voice  frighten  you  ? " 


n8  In  a  Club  Corner 

"  Yes."  "  Do  all  your  ideas  forsake 
you  ?  "  "  Yes."  "  Do  you  wish  the  floor  to 
open  and  swallow  you  ?"  "Yes."  "Why, 
then,  you'll  make  an  orator!"  The  same 

Canning,  gentleman  told  of  Canning,  too,  how  once, 
before  rising  to  speak  in  the  House  of 
Commons,  he  bade  his  friends  feel  his 
pulse,  which  was  throbbing  terrifically. 
"I  know  I  shall  make  one  of  my  best 
speeches,"  said  Canning,  "because  I'm  in 
such  an  awful  funk  ! "  Pitt  did  not  like  to 
take  part  in  a  debate  when  his  mind  was 
full  of  an  important  secret  of  state.  "  I 
must  sit  still,"  he  once  said  to  Lord  Shel- 
burne  on  such  an  occasion ;  "  for,  when 
once  I  am  up,  everything  that  is  in  my 
mind  comes  out."  "  In  order,"  says  Judge 

TO  speak      Brackcnridge,  "  to  speak  short    upon    any 

*hort,think  / 

ions,  subject  —  think  long.  Much  reflection  is 
the  secret  of  all  that  is  truly  excellent  in 
oratory.  No  man  that  speaks  just  enough, 
and  no  more,  ever  wearies  those  that  hear 
him.  And  that  is  enough  which  exhausts 
the  subject,  before  the  patience  of  the 
auditory."  Prince  Bismarck  once  said, 
"The  day  will  yet  come,  when  what  is 
called  eloquence  will  be  regarded  as  a 
quality  injurious  to  the  state,  and  punished 
when  it  is  guilty  of  a  long  speech." 


In  a  Club  Corner  119 

Of  making  many  books  there  is  indeed  BOOKS  AND 
no  end.  It  is  told  of  an  Oriental  king  that 
his  library  was  so  large  that  it  required  one 
hundred  persons  to  take  care  of  it,  and  a 
thousand  dromedaries  to  transport  it.  He 
ordered  all  useless  matter  weeded  out,  and 
after  thirty  years'  labor  it  was  reduced  to 
the  carrying  capacity  of  thirty  camels. 
Still  appalled  by  the  number  of  volumes, 
he  ordered  it  to  be  condensed  to  a  single 
dromedary  load,  and  when  the  task  was 
completed,  age  had  crept  upon  him,  and 
death  awaited  him.  Think  of  "  that  catho-  Thatcatho- 
lic  dome  in  Bloomsbury,"  as  Thackeray 
calls  the  British  Museum  (to  which,  it  will 
be  recollected,  he  likened  "the  dome  which 
held  Macaulay's  brain"),  "under  which 
one  million  volumes  are  housed."  Dr. 
Holmes  has  told  how  to  see  the  great 
treasure-house  ;  and  what  he  has  said  would 
apply  to  the  books  it  contains.  "  Take 
lodgings,"  he  says,  "next  door  to  it, — in  a 
garret,  if  you  cannot  afford  anything  any 
better,  —  and  pass  all  your  days  at  the 
Museum  during  the  whole  period  of  your 
natural  life.  At  three  score  and  ten  you 
will  have  some  faint  conception  of  the  con- 
tents, significance,  and  value  of  the  great 
British  institution."  Whitaker's  reference 


i2o  In  a  Club  Corner 

catalogue  of  current  literature  alone,  pub- 
lished in  London,  is  ten  inches  thick,  and 
contains  over  sixty-eight  thousand  refer- 
ences. One  hundred  and  thirty  publishers 
are  represented  in  it.  The  preparation  of 

Thcunwer-  a.  universal  index  of  subjects,  the  record  of 
**'  all  that  human  beings  have  ever  written 
upon  anything,  an  English  writer  suggests 
must  be  left  for  the  German  government 
when  it  has  conquered  the  world,  or  for 
the  scion  of  the  Rothschilds,  or  the  Astors, 
or  the  Vanderbilts,  who  is  one  day  to  ap- 
pear, and  who  to  a  fortune  of  twenty  mil- 
lions is  to  add  burning  philanthropy  and 
acute  bibliomania.  In  view  of  the  vast 
quantity  of  printed  matter  Schopenhauer 
urges  "the  paramount  importance  of  ac- 

TJU  library  quiring  the  art  not  to  read."     The  library 

of  Voltaire.    nr    ,_    f     .  J 

of  Voltaire  is  represented  as  neither  so 
numerous  nor  so  varied  as  his  fortune  and 
the  extent  of  his  knowledge  seemed  to 
require.  He  thought  we  ought  to  set 
bounds  to  our  reading,  and  that  when  we 
had  seen  a  certain  number  of  authors  we 
had  seen  all.  "  Books  which  please  for  a 
year,  which  please  for  ten  years,  and  which 
please  forever,"  says  Sir  James  Mackintosh, 
"gradually  take  their  destined  stations." 
"  Posterity,"  says  Matthew  Arnold,  "alarmed 


In  a  Club  Corner  121 

at  the  way  in  which  its  literary  baggage 
grows  upon  it,  always  seeks  to  leave  be- 
hind it  as  much  as  it  can,  as  much  as 
it  dares  —  everything  but  masterpieces." 
Emerson  says,  "There  is  no  luck  in  liter-  Noiuck 

J     '  literary 

ary  reputation.  They  who  make  up  the 
final  verdict  upon  every  book  are  not  the 
partial  and  noisy  readers  of  the  hour  when 
it  appears  ;  but  a  court  as  of  angels,  a 
public  not  to  be  bribed,  not  to  be  entreated, 
and  not  to  be  overawed,  decides  upon 
every  man's  title  to  fame.  Only  those 
books  come  down  which  deserve  to  last." 
Thackeray  thought  it  a  comfort  that  the 
thousands  and  thousands  of  pictures  in  the 
Louvre  are  not  all  masterpieces,  and  that 
there  is  a  good  stock  of  mediocrity  in  this 
world,  and  that  we  only  light  upon  genius  Genius  at 
now  and  then,  at  rare  angel  intervals,  %£.' 
handed  round  like  Tokay  at  dessert,  in  a 
few  houses,  and  in  very  small  quantities 
only.  Fancy  how  sick  one  would  grow  of 
it,  if  one  had  no  other  drink.  The  great 
books  in  the  great  libraries  are  few  indeed 
in  comparison  to  the  whole  number,  and 
their  condition  is  proof  of  how  little  they 
are  handled  by  the  multitude  of  readers. 
Weeding,  according  to  the  highest  stand- 
ards, would  leave  the  miles  of  shelves  com- 


122  In  a  Club  Corner 

paratively  empty.  Jeffrey,  in  reviewing 
Campbell's  Specimens  of  the  British  Poets, 
published  in  1819,  says:  "Of  near  two 
hundred  and  fifty  authors,  whose  works  are 
cited  in  these  volumes,  by  far  the  greater 
part  of  whom  were  celebrated  in  their  gen- 
eration, there  are  not  thirty  who  now  enjoy 
r.  anything  that  can  be  called  popularity  — 
whose  works  are  to  be  found  in  the  hands 
of  ordinary  readers,  in  the  shops  of  ordinary 
booksellers,  or  in  the  press  for  republica- 
tion.  About  fifty  may  be  tolerably  familiar 
to  men  of  taste  or  literature ;  the  rest 
slumber  on  the  shelves  of  collectors,  and 
are  partially  known  to  a  few  antiquaries 
and  scholars.  .  .  .  Now,  if  this  goes  on  for 
a  hundred  years  longer,  what  a  task  will 
await  the  poetical  readers  of  1919!'  Our 
living  poets  will  then  be  nearly  as  old  as 
Pope  and  Swift  are  at  present,  but  there 
will  stand  between  them  and  that  gener- 
The  fresh  ation  nearly  ten  times  as  much  fresh  and 

and  fashion-    .  J  . 

obit.  fashionable   poetry  as   is   now  interposed 

between  us  and  those  writers  ;  and  if  Scott, 
and  Byron,  and  Campbell  have  already  cast 
Pope  and  Swift  a  good  deal  into  the  shade, 
in  what  form  and  dimensions  are  they 
themselves  likely  to  be  presented  to  the 
eyes  of  their  great-grandchildren  ?  The 


In  a  Club  Corner  123 

thought,  we  own,  is  a  little  appalling ;  and, 
we  confess,  we  see  nothing  better  to  im-  Nothing 
agine  than  that  they  may  find  a  comfort-  imagine. 
able  place  in  some  new  collection  of 
specimens  —  the  centenary  of  the  present 
publication.  There  —  if  the  future  editor 
have  anything  like  the  indulgence  and  ven- 
eration for  antiquity  of  his  predecessor  — 
there  shall  posterity  hang  with  rapture  on 
the  half  of  Campbell,  and  the  fourth  part 
of  Byron,  and  the  sixth  of  Scott,  and  the 
scattered  tithes  of  Crabbe,  and  the  three 
per  cent,  of  Southey ;  while  some  good- 
natured  critic  shall  sit  in  our  mouldering 
chair,  and  more  than  half  prefer  them  to 
those  by  whom  they  have  been  superseded." 
The  Tennysons  and  the  Longfellows  of  the 
present  day  must  in  like  manner  suffer  by 
new  candidates  for  poetical  fame,  and  so 
the  fashion  and  taste  will  ever  go  on  chang- 
ing —  the  "  immortals  "  of  a  thousand  years 
composing  a  still  diminutive  list.  "  It  is," 
says  De  Quincey,  "one  of  the  misfortunes 
of  life  that  one  must  read  thousands  of 
books  only  to  discover  that  one  need  not 
have  read  them."  "  In  science,"  Bulwer 
suggests,  "  read,  by  preference,  the  newest 
works  ;  in  literature,  the  oldest.  The  classic 
literature  is  always  modern.  New  books 


124  In  a  Club  Corner 

revive  and  redecorate  old  ideas  ;  old  books 
suggest  and  invigorate  new  ideas."  Car- 
lyle  speaks  of  a  book  that  in  a  high  de- 
gree excited  him  to  self-activity,  which  he 

The  best       regarded   as  the  best  effect  of  any  book. 

'/ook.°f  "y  "The  principal  use  of  reading  to  me,"  says 
Montaigne,  "  is  that,  by  various  objects,  it 
rouses  my  reason ;  it  employs  my  judg- 
ment, not  my  memory."  "The  tendency 
of  education  through  books,"  says  Mark 
Pattison,  "  is  to  sharpen  individuality,  and 
to  cultivate  independence  of  mind,  to  make 
a  man  cease  to  be  '  the  contented  servant 
of  the  things  that  perish.'  The  conversa- 
tion of  the  man  who  reads  to  any  purpose 
will  be  flavored  by  his  reading ;  but  it  will 
not  be  about  his  reading.  The  people  who 
read  in  order  to  talk  about  it,  are  the  people 

The  boo^     who  read  the  books  of  the  season  because 

f^sklZn.  they  are  the  fashion  —  books  which  come 
in  with  the  season  and  go  out  with  it.  We 
read  books  that  we  may  escape  from  the 
terrible  ennui  of  society.  We  go  to  read, 
not  from  craving  for  excitement,  but  as  a 
refuge  from  the  tedium  vitae,  the  irksome- 
ness  of  herding  with  uninteresting  fellow 
mortals."  The  scholar  consults  books  as 
the  mechanic  employs  his  tools.  Milton's 
"  industrious  and  select  reading,"  in  prep- 


In  a  Club  Corner  125 

aration  for  the  great  work  to  which  he  ded- 
icated a  whole  life,  "long  choosing,  and 
late  beginning,"  is  as  well  known  as  the 
thirty  years  spent  by  Edward  Gibbon  in 
preparing  for  and  in  composing  his  history. 
Carlyle  read  twenty-five  large  volumes  be-  Literary 
fore  he  felt  himself  competent  to  begin  his 
essay  on  Diderot,  and  Dickens  felt  it  nec- 
essary to  look  through  with  some  care  the 
barrow  load  of  French  books  sent  him  by 
Carlyle  before  beginning  his  Tale  of  Two 
Cities.  Then  there  are  big  books — huge 
folios  —  foundations  of  great  libraries  — 
that  are  never  read  or  even  consulted. 
The  first  books  given  to  Dartmouth  Col- 
lege, we  are  told,  were  of  that  character. 
Like  the  matchlock  guns,  they  could  not 
be  held  out  for  use  without  a  rest.  There 
are  several  hundred  volumes  of  them  :  two 
feet  long,  eighteen'  inches  wide,  and  six 
inches  thick.  An  old  librarian  of  the  col- 
lege said  the  old  folios  were  never  read.  The  old 
Those  who  affected  to  know  more  than  read*"* 
their  classmates  took  them  out.  One 
learned  senior  told  him  that  he  always  had 
three  charged  to  him,  one  for  a  footstool, 
one  for  a  cushion  to  his  chair,  and  one  for 
his  water  pail  to  rest  on.  "What  harm 
can  a  book  do  that  costs  a  hundred  crowns  ? " 


126  In  a  Club  Corner 

once  asked  Voltaire.  "Twenty  volumes 
folio  will  never  cause  a  revolution  ;  it  is 
TJieiutit  the  little  portable  volumes  of  thirty  sous 
Jea^a.  that  are  to  be  feared."  The  completed 
Chinese  Encyclopaedia  comprises  five  thou- 
sand and  twenty  volumes ;  price  seven 
thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  "  The  crys- 
tallized thoughts  of  the  wisest  and  best  of 
all  time,  the  recorded  experiences  of  men, 
and  the  accumulated  knowledge  of  the 
world,  are  mighty  instruments  for  living 
men.  One  cannot  learn  everything,  but  a 
perfect  library  must  have  all  the  things 
which  books  can  teach  to  all  men."  "By 
my  books,"  a  scholar  has  said,  "  I  can  con- 
jure up  to  vivid  existence  before  me  all 
the  great  and  good  men  of  antiquity ;  and 
for  my  individual  satisfaction  I  can  make 
them  act  over  again  the  most  renowned  of 
Magical  their  exploits.  The  orators  declaim  for  me  ; 

influence  of  .  .  . 

books.  the  historians  recite ;  the  poets  sing ;  in 
a  word,  from  the  equator  to  the  pole,  and 
from  the  beginning  of  time  until  now,  by 
my  books,  I  can  fly  whither  I  please."  In 
a  letter  to  Vittori,  after  giving  a  humorous 
description  of  the  manner  in  which  he 
passed  his  time  in  his  country-house  — 
snaring  thrushes,  cutting  wood,  and  play- 
ing at  cricca  and  tric-trac  with  a  butcher, 


In  a  Club  Corner  727 

a  miller,  and  two  kiln-men,  Machiavelli 
says :  "  But  when  evening  comes  I  return 
home,  and  shut  myself  up  in  my  study. 
Before  I  make  my  appearance  in  it,  I  take 
off  my  rustic  garb,  soiled  with  mud  and 
dirt,  and  put  on  a  dress  adapted  for  courts 
or  cities.  Thus  fitly  habited  I  enter  the  The  antique 

f       .  .  .  resorts  of 

antique  resorts  of  the  ancients ;  where,  the  ancients. 
being  received,  I  feed  on  that  food  which 
alone  is  mine,  and  for  which  I  was  born. 
For  an  interval  of  four  hours  I  feel  no 
annoyance  ;  I  forget  every  grief,  I  neither 
fear  poverty  nor  death,  but  am  totally 
immersed."  Lady  Mary  Wortley  Mon- 
tagu at  the  age  of  sixty-two  wrote  to  her 
daughter :  "  I  give  you  thanks  for  your 
care  of  my  books.  I  yet  retain,  and  care- 
fully cherish,  my  taste  for  reading.  If 
relays  of  eyes  were  to  be  hired  like  post- 
horses,  I  would  never  admit  any  but  silent 
companions ;  they  afford  a  constant  vari-  A  constant 
ety  of  entertainment,  which  is  almost  the  entertain- 
only  one  pleasing  in  the  enjoyment,  and 
inoffensive  in  the  consequence."  At  sixty- 
eight  she  wrote  also  to  her  daughter,  "The 
active  scenes  are  over  at  my  age.  I  in- 
dulge, with  all  the  art  I  can,  my  taste  for 
reading.  If  I  would  confine  it  to  valuable 
books,  they  are  almost  as  scarce  as  valu-  , 


128  In  a  Club  Corner 

able  men.     I  must  be  content  with  what  I 
can  find.     As  I  approach  a  second  child- 
of  hood,  I  endeavor  to  enter  into  the  pleas- 

second  child- 
hood,         ures  of  it.     Your  youngest  son  is,  perhaps, 

at  this  very  moment,  riding  on  a  poker, 
with  delight,  not  at  all  regretting  that  it 
is  not  a  gold  one,  and  much  less  wishing 
it  an  Arabian  horse,  which  he  could  not 
know  how  to  manage.  I  am  reading  an 
idle  tale,  not  expecting  wit  or  truth  in  it, 
and  am  glad  it  is  not  metaphysics  to  puzzle 
my  judgment,  or  history  to  mislead  my 
opinion.  He  fortifies  his  health  by  exer- 
cise ;  I  calm  my  cares  by  oblivion.  The 
methods  may  appear  low  to  busy  people ; 
but  if  he  improves  his  strength,  and  I 
forget  my  infirmities,  we  both  attain  very 
desirable  ends."  That  remarkable  passage 
in  one  of  Dickens'  stories,  in  which  Harriet 
Carker  is  described  reading  to  Alice  Brown 
—  who  could  forget  it  ?  She  read  to  the 
The  Etemai  poor  woman  "the  Eternal  Book  for  all  the 
weary  and  the  heavy-laden  ;  for  all  the 
wretched,  fallen,  and  neglected  of  this 
earth  —  read  the  blessed  history,  in  which 
the  blind,  lame,  palsied  beggar,  the  crimi- 
nal, the  woman  stained  with  shame,  the 
shunned  of  all  our  dainty  clay,  has  each  a 
portion,  that  no  human  pride,  indifference, 


In  a  Club  Corner  129 

or  sophistry  through  all  the  ages  that  this 
world  shall  last,  can  take  away,  or  by  the 
thousandth  atom  of  a  grain  reduce  —  read 
the  ministry  of  Him,  who,  through  the 
round  of  human  life,  and  all  its  hopes  and 
griefs,  from  birth  to  death,  from  infancy  to 
age,  had  sweet  compassion  for,  and  interest 
in,  its  every  scene  and  stage,  its  every  suf- 
fering and  sorrow." 

Talleyrand  said  of  Chateaubriand  that  VANITY. 
he  became  deaf  when  people  ceased  talk- 
ing about  him.  It  is  well  for  us,  some  one 
has  remarked,  that  we  are  born  babies  in 
intellect  Could  we  understand  half  what 
most  mothers  say  and  do  to  their  infants, 
we  should  be  filled  with  a  conceit  of  our 
own  importance,  which  would  render  us 
insupportable  through  life.  It  was  told  of 
a  distinguished  Englishman  of  the  last 
generation  that,  on  leaving  the  university, 
he  was  thus  addressed  by  the  head  of  his 
college :  "  Mr.  Blank,  the  tutors  think 
highly  of  you  :  your  fellow-students  think 
highly  of  you  :  I  think  highly  of  you  ;  but 
nobody  thinks  so  highly  of  you  as  you 
think  of  yourself."  Recalling  the  story  of 
the  senior  wrangler  fresh  from  his  tri- 
umph, who,  entering  a  theatre  at  the  same 


'30 


In  a  Club  Corner 


Richelieu's 
vanity. 


Thackeray 
the  opposite. 


time  with  royalty,  fancied  that  the  audience 
were  standing  up  to  do  him  honor.  Riche- 
lieu is  said  to  have  valued  himself  much 
on  his  personal  activity,  —  for  his  vanity 
was  as  universal  as  his  ambition.  A 
nobleman  at  the  house  of  Grammont  one 
day  found  him  employed  in  jumping,  and 
with  all  the  ease  and  tact  of  a  Frenchman 
and  a  courtier,  offered  to  jump  against  him. 
He  suffered  the  Cardinal  to  jump  higher, 
and  soon  after  found  himself  rewarded  by 
an  appointment.  Carlyle  tells  an  incident 
that  recalls  Rousseau's  vanity.  He  con- 
sented to  accompany  Madame  de  Genlis  to 
the  theatre,  stipulating  strict  incognito ; 
"he  would  not  be  seen  there  for  the 
world."  The  pit,  however,  recognized  him, 
but  did  not  cheer  him  ;  and  this  philoso- 
pher hurried  indignantly  from  the  scene, 
not  because  he  was  discovered,  but  be- 
cause he  was  not  applauded.  Thackeray 
was  the  opposite.  "  Even  when  I  am  read- 
ing my  lectures,"  he  said,  "  I  often  think  to 
myself,  'What  a  humbug  you  are,'  and  I 
wonder  the  people  don't  find  it  out."  He 
thought  the  best  antidote  for  self-conceit 
was  for  a  man  to  live  where  he  could  meet 
his  betters,  intellectual  and  social.  But 
why  cure  anything  so  grateful  and  gra- 


In  a  Club  Corner  131 

cious?  Vanity,  as  well  said,  does  indeed 
wrap  a  man  up  like  a  cloak.  It  bestows  its 
blessings  freely  upon  the  poet  striving  siessi 
against  general  misappreciation  ;  it  enables  *"* 
the  poor  loser  in  the  great  battle  of  life  to 
make  himself  happy  with  some  trifling  suc- 
cess ;  it  softens  the  bitter  pangs  of  disap- 
pointment, and  gives  fresh  strength  for 
new  struggles;  it  prevents  resentment, 
and  facilitates  the  intercourse  of  society ; 
it  can  make  any  man  contented  with  his 
lot,  and  lets  the  poor  drudge  in  the  kitchen 
think  without  envy  of  the  statesman  in  the 
parlor.  Who  would  not  be  tempted  to 
frequent  irritation  if  he  could  enjoy  that 
gift  for  which  the  poet  so  foolishly  prayed, 
the  gift  of  seeing  himself  as  others  saw 
him,  and  recognize  his  infinitesimal  impor- 
tance in  the  eyes  of  his  fellows?  It  is 
because  of  the  tender  illusions  of  vanity 
that  a  man  can  accept  the  petty  sphere  of 
his  own  activity  for  the  wider  circle  of 
the  world,  and  shut  out  the  annihilating 
image  of  the  vast  forces  beyond.  It  is  the 
safeguard  against  a  depressing  fatalism. 
Vanity  has  as  many  virtues  as  the  vaunted 
panaceas  of  medical  quackery ;  and  were 
it  not  for  that  softening  oil,  the  wheels  of 
life  would  grate  harsh  music  too  discor- 


1)2  In  a  Club  Corner 

dant  for  mortal  ears.     Measureless  boon  ! 
Thank  thee,  Heaven ! 

TCSTICBAND      it  is  related  that  Sir  Giles  Rooke  had 

MERCY. 

once  to  preside  at  the  trial  of  a  young 
woman  who  was  charged  with  having 
stolen  a  saw,  valued  at  ten  pence,  from 
an  old-iron  shop.  The  evidence  was  clear 
against  her  ;  but  it  was  found  that  she  had 
committed  the  offense  from  the  pressure 
of  extreme  want.  The  jury  felt  the  hard- 
ship of  the  case,  and  the  cruelty  of  pun- 
ishing with  severity  an  offense  committed 
under  such  circumstances  ;  and  despite  the 
clearness  of  the  evidence,  consulted  for 
some  little  time  in  doubt  together.  At 
length,  however,  they  agreed,  and  the  fore- 
man, rising  with  evident  agitation,  delivered 
verdict,  their  verdict,  Guilty.  Upon  this,  Judge 
Rooke  addressed  them  in  the  following 
terms :  "  Gentlemen  of  the  jury,  the  ver- 
dict which  you  have  given  is  the  very 
proper  verdict;  under  the  circumstances 
of  the  case  you  could  have  given  no  other. 
I  perceive  the  reluctance  with  which  you 
have  given  it.  The  court,  sympathizing 
with  you  in  the  unhappy  condition  of  the 
prisoner,  will  inflict  the  lightest  punish- 
ment the  law  will  allow.  The  sentence  is 


In  a  Club  Corner  133 

that  the  prisoner  be  fined  one  shilling,  and 
be  discharged ;  and  if  she  has  not  one  in 
her  possession,  I  will  give  her  one  for  the 
purpose."  The  audience,  jury,  and  coun- 
sel, showed  how  deeply  they  were  moved 
by  the  language  of  the  venerable  judge. 
Early  in  this  century,  we  are  told,  it  was 
the  custom  in  Portugal  for  the  Society  of  society  of 
Mercy  to  supply  the  instruments  of  pun-  ** 
ishment  for  condemned  criminals.  They 
were  always  present  at  executions,  and 
sometimes  provided  rotten  ropes,  which 
broke  with  the  offender,  and  when  he  fell, 
they  covered  him  with  the  flag  of  mercy, 
and  he  was  out  of  the  reach  of  the  civil 
power.  There  is  a  pretty  fable  of  a  Gue- 
bre  prophet,  who  was  carried  by  an  angel 
to  a  spot  whence  he  beheld  the  place  of  The  place  of 
torment  of  the  wicked,  and  informed  by 
the  angel  of  the  various  reasons  for  the 
various  conditions  in  which  he  saw  the 
several  sufferers.  His  attention  was  at 
length  especially  caught  by  the  situation 
of  a  man  whose  whole  naked  body  was  sur- 
rounded by  raging  flames,  with  the  single 
exception  of  his  left  foot.  "  And  what," 
said  the  prophet  to  the  angel ;  "  what,  my 
lord,  is  the  cause  of  that  particular  excep- 
tion ? "  "  The  man  whom  thou  beholdest," 


1)4  IH  a  Club  Corner 

returned  the  angel,  "  was,  in  his  lifetime,  a 
wicked  king.  His  oppression  of  his  sub- 
jects was  grievous,  and  thou  seest  how  he 
suffering  of  su£fereth  for  his  guilt.  But,  one  day,  that 
ak£g.  miserable  tyrant  (tyrant  though  he  was) 
walked  near  to  a  sheep  cote,  where  it 
chanced  that  he  saw  a  lamb  tethered  to 
a  stake,  and  was  hungering  after  the  re- 
mainder of  some  hay  which  had  been  placed 
near  it,  but  of 'which  it  had  already  con- 
sumed all  that  was  within  its  reach.  The 
wicked  prince,  feeling  upon  'that  occasion 
one  emotion  of  pity,  stretched  out  his  left 
foot,  and  pushed  the  hay  within  the  reach 
of  the  lamb.  Thou  perceivest,  then,  O 
prophet,  how  surely,  among  all  the  sons  of 
men,  He  loveth  all  his  creatures,  and  how 
He  beareth  in  mind  every  act  of  love  which 
E/ect  of  a  is  performed  for  them.  A  single  act  of 
'™*  mercy,  bestowed  upon  a  hungry  lamb,  has 
saved  from  the  flames  of  hell  the  left  foot 
of  even  a  wicked  tyrant."  There  is  a  Mo- 
hammedan version  of  one  of  the  actions 
attributed  in  India  to  Buddha.  One  day  a 
dove  came  flying  up  to  Moses,  and  begged 
for  protection  against  a  pursuing  hawk. 
And  Moses  pitied  the  dove,  and  let  it  take 
refuge  in  his  bosom.  But  presently  up 
flew  the  hawk,  and  charged  Moses  with 


In  a  Club  Corner  135 

injustice  and  cruelty,  inasmuch  as  he  had 
deprived  it  of  the  food  it  was  about  to  give 
to  its  hungering  little  ones.  And  Moses 
felt  that  in  acting  kindly  towards  the  dove 
he  had  acted  cruelly  towards  the  hawk. 
So,  in  order  to  reconcile  justice  with  Reconciling 

,  rr      r  •  11  justice  -with 

mercy,  he  cut  oft  from  his  own  body  a  mercy. 
piece  of  flesh  as  large  as  the  dove,  and  was 
about  to  give  it  to  the  hawk  for  its  long- 
ing little  ones,  when  the  hawk  cried  :  "  O 
prophet  of  God,  I  am  Michael,  and  what 
seems  to  thee  a  dove  is  Gabriel.  We  came 
to  thee  under  these  forms  in  order  to  test 
and  to  make  manifest  thy  high-mindedness 
and  thy  generosity."  And  then  the  two 
seeming  birds  disappeared.  "  I  have  found 
men  more  kind  than  I  expected,  and  less 
just,"  said  Dr.  Johnson,  at  the  close  of  his 
wide  experience  of  life;  and  the  remark 
would  be  echoed,  we  suppose  (says  an  Eng- 
lish writer),  by  every  one  whose  experience 
or  whose  anticipations  have  not  been  pe- 
culiar. Almost  every  one,  we  think,  has  at 
least  once  in  his  life  felt  that  he  came  in  comi»gin 

,,  *  ._  ,  1-1  contact  with 

contact  with  a  just  mind,  —  that  his  short-  a  just  mind. 
comings  were  estimated  without  exaggera- 
tion, his  offenses  visited  with  no  more  than 
their  merited  penalty.     If  he  ask  himself 
what  hand  has  administered  this  tonic  to 


/j?6  In  a  Club  Corner 

fainting  self-esteem,  this  anodyne  to  the 
flutterings  of  a  restless  vanity,  he  will  in- 
variably find,  we  believe,  that  it  was  that 
Something:  of  one  whose  ideal  was  something  different 
fromjustice.  from  justice.  We  do  not  believe  that  any 
human  being  ever  impressed  another  with 
the  sense  of  justice,  in  the  face  of  any  real 
difficulty  or  obstacle,  who  was  otherwise 
than  boundlessly  forgiving.  Think  of  all 
that  a  great  patriot  must  condone  in  his 
supporters,  during  a  death-struggle  with  a 
mighty  foe.  One  shudders  to  imagine  all 
that  must  have  been  permitted,  for  in- 
stance, by  a  William  the  Silent.  "  Charity," 
says  Ruskin,  at  his  best,  "  is  the  summit  of 
justice  —  it  is  the  temple  of  which  justice 
YOU  can't  is  the  foundation.  But  you  can't  have  the 
'without  a*  top  without  the  bottom  ;  you  cannot  build 
upon  charity.  You  must  build  upon  jus- 
tice, for  this  main  reason,  that  you  have 
not,  at  first,  charity  to  build  with.  It  is 
the  last  reward  of  good  work.  Do  jus- 
tice to  your  brother  (you  can  do  that, 
whether  you  love  him  or  not),  and  you  will 
come  to  love  him.  But  do  injustice  to  him, 
because  you  don't  love  him,  and  you  will 
come  to  hate  him." 


In  a  Club  Corner  137 

It  is  certain  that  Richard  Brinsley  Sheri-  SHERIDAN. 
dan  will  always  be  an  interesting  character 
to  attentive  readers  and  students  of  Eng- 
lish literature.  Orators,  dramatists,  play- 
wrights, statesmen,  enlightened  men  and 
women  of  the  world,  close  students  of 
human  nature,  will  be  particularly  inter- 
ested in  him,  for  the  reason,  that  the 
development  of  extraordinary  powers,  and 
the  notable  achievements  of  genius,  must 
ever  and  everywhere  be  engaging  to 
thoughtful  people. 

It  is  not  often  that  traits  can  be  traced 
so  unmistakably  to  progenitors  as  in  the  Traits  of 
case  of  Sheridan.  His  grandfather  was  a 
clergyman,  but  lost  his  chaplaincy  and  all 
hope  of  further  preferment  by  preaching  a 
sermon  on  the  birthday  of  George  I.  from 
the  text :  "  Sufficient  unto  the  day  is  the 
evil  thereof."  He  died,  as  stated,  in  great 
poverty  and  distress,  having  maintained 
through  all  the  changes  of  fortune  a  gay 
and  careless  cheerfulness,  not  allowing  a 
day  to  pass,  according  to  Lord  Cork, 
"  with'out  a  rebus,  an  anagram,  or  a  madri- 
gal." He  published  translations  of  Greek 
and  Latin  classics,  and  wrote  letters,  many 
of  which  were  held  of  sufficient  conse- 
quence to  be  included  in  Swift's  Miscel- 


i}8  In  a  Club  Corner 

lanies.  His  father  was  an  actor,  an  elo- 
cutionist, and  a  lexicographer.  He  played 
at  Drury  Lane,  and  was  set  up,  we  are 

Hi* father  told,  by  his  friends  as  a  rival  to  Garrick. 
volt?*  One  of  his  published  works  was  a  life  of 
his  godfather,  Jonathan  Swift,  with  whom 
his  father  must  have  been  intimate.  His 
mother  was  a  novelist  of  considerable  dis- 
tinction, her  romances  still  retaining  a  re- 
spectable place  in  English  literature.  The 
distinguishing  traits  of  his  grandfather,  his 
father,  and  his  mother,  were  developed  and 
stimulated  by  his  attachment  to  Miss  Lin- 
ley,  a  young  and  beautiful  singer,  in  defense 
of  whom  he  fought  two  duels,  to  whom  he 
was  afterwards  married,  and  by  whom  his 
subsequent  life  was  greatly  determined. 
"  He  said  his  wife  should  sing  in  public 

Summary,  no  more,  and  she  did  not.  In  a  few  years 
he  had  written  the  most  brilliant  comedies 
produced  since  the  time  of  Shakespeare. 
A  few  years  later  he  delivered  the  most 
electrifying  speech  ever  heard  in  the  House 
of  Commons.  He  was  in  Parliament  thirty 
years,  and  manager  of  Drury  Lane  for 
about  the  same  period.  When  George  IV. 
was  Prince  of  Wales,  Sheridan  was  his 
most  intimate  friend  and  adviser,  shaping, 
no  doubt,  the  future  whisper  of  the  throne. 


In  a  Club  Corner  139 

Sheridan  was  almost  a  Republican  in  poli- 
tics. He  stood  by  the  French  Revolution- 
ists, by  Ireland,  and  the  oppressed  myriads 
of  India.  He  held  during  his  life  but  two 
or  three  offices,  and  made  no  money  in  Made  no 
public  affairs.  Against  these  merits  and  %%&  " 
achievements  is  placed  the  fact  that  he  " 
made  a  multitude  of  engagements  and  kept 
but  few  of  them  ;  that  he  was  generally 
in  straits  for  money ;  and  that  he  drank 
at  times  more  port  than  was  good  for 
him.  The  real  moral  of  his  life  seems  to 
be  that  without  a  sense  of  order  the  most 
versatile  genius  will  be  continually  in  hot 
water.  Sheridan  could  raise  large  sums 
of  money  for  Drury  Lane,  and  manage  it 
through  its  golden  age,  yet  he  allowed 
small  creditors  to  swarm  around  him  as 
if  helpless.  Later  in  life  he  settled  fifteen 
thousand  pounds  upon  his  second  wife,  and 
met  with  a  heavy  financial  disaster  when 
Drury  Lane  burned.  Yet  his  debts  after 
death  amounted  to  only  four  thousand  DM* oniy 
pounds.  Such  a  bankrupt  would  not 
amount  to  a  third  rate  in  these  days." 

From  being  regarded  at  school  as  "a 
most  impenetrable  dunce,"  he  rose  to  be, 
in  many  respects,  one  of  the  most  dis- 
tinguished men  in  the  world  "  The  other 


140  In  a  Club  Corner 

night,"  writes  Byron,  in  his  Diary,  "we 
were  all  delivering  our  respective  and 
various  opinions  upon  Sheridan,  and  mine 
was  this  :  '  Whatever  Sheridan  has  done 
or  chosen  to  do  has  been  par  excellence 
Always  the  always  the  best  of  its  kind.  He  has  writ- 
ten the  best  comedy  (School  for  Scandal) ; 
the  best  opera,  The  Duenna  (in  my  mind 
far  before  that  St.  Giles's  lampoon,  The 
Beggars'  Opera) ;  the  best  farce  (the  Critic 
—  it  is  only  too  good  for  a  farce) ;  and  the 
best  address  (Monologue  on  Garrick) ;  and, 
to  crown  all,  delivered  the  very  best  ora- 
tion (the  famous  Begum  speech)  ever  con- 
ceived or  heard  in  England.'  Somebody 
told  Sheridan  this,  the  next  day,  and,  on 
hearing  it,  he  burst  into  tears."  The 
impeach,  speech  on  the  impeachment  of  Warren 
"noting,.  Hastings,  Burke  declared  to  be  "the  most 
astonishing  effort  of  eloquence,  argument, 
and  wit,  united,  of  which  there  was  any 
record  or  tradition."  Fox  said,  "all  that 
he  had  ever  heard,  all  that  he  had  ever 
read,  when  compared  with  it,  dwindled  into 
nothing,  and  vanished  like  vapor  before 
the  sun  ; "  and  Pitt  acknowledged  "  that  it 
surpassed  all  the  eloquence  of  ancient  and 
modern  times,  and  possessed  everything 
that  genius  or  art  could  furnish,  to  agitate 


In  a  Club  Corner  141 

and  control  the  human  mind."  At  the 
close  of  it  occurs  this  celebrated  passage : 
"Justice  I  have  now  before  me,  august  and  Picture  of 
pure ;  the  abstract  idea  of  all  that  would 
be  perfect  in  the  spirits  and  the  aspirings 
of  men !  —  where  the  mind  rises,  where 
the  heart  expands  —  where  the  counte- 
nance is  ever  placid  and  benign  —  where 
her  favorite  attitude  is  to  stoop  to  the  un- 
fortunate—  to  hear  their  cry  and  to  help 
them,  to  rescue  and  relieve,  to  succor 
and  save  :  —  majestic  from  its  mercy ;  ven- 
erable from  its  utility ;  uplifted  without 
pride ;  firm  without  obduracy ;  beneficent 
in  each  preference  ;  lovely,  though  in  her 
frown! " 

The  speech  occupied  five  hours  and  a 
half  in  the  delivery.  An  anecdote  is  given 
as  a  proof  of  its  irresistible  power  in  a  Powero/k 
note  upon  Bisset's  History  of  the  Reign  '  qwn 
of  George  III.  :  "The  late  Mr.  Logan,  well 
known  for  his  literary  efforts,  and  author 
of  a  most  masterly  defense  of  Mr.  Hastings, 
went  that  day  to  the  House  of  Commons, 
prepossessed  for  the  accused  and  against 
the  accuser.  At  the  expiration  of  the  first 
hour  he  said  to  a  friend,  'All  this  is  de- 
clamatory assertion  without  proof ; '  — when 
the  second  was  finished,  'This  is  a  most 


142  In  a  Club  Corner 

wonderful  oration  ; '  —  at  the  close  of  the 
third,  '  Mr.  Hastings  has  acted  very  un- 
justifiably;'—  the  fourth,  'Mr.  Hastings 
is  a  most  atrocious  criminal;' — and,  at 
last,  '  Of  all  monsters  of  iniquity,  the  most 
enormous  is  Warren  Hastings.'  " 
speech  at  The  next  year  occurred  his  great  speech 
ft^HM.  at  Westminster  Hall  —  "  the  great  hall  of 
William  Rufus,  the  hall  which  had  re- 
sounded with  acclamations  at  the  inaugura- 
tion of  thirty  kings  "  —  which  lasted  four 
days. 

His  carelessness  and  dilatoriness  were 
proverbial.  Sir  Jonah  Barrington,  in  a 
note  to  one  of  his  Personal  Sketches,  says  : 
"  I  had  an  opportunity  of  knowing  that  Mr. 
Sheridan  was  offered  one  thousand  pounds 
for  his  speech  in  the  Warren  Hastings  case 
by  a  bookseller  the  day  after  it  was  spoken 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  provided  he 
would  write  it  out  correctly  from  the  notes 
taken,  before  the  interest  had  subsided  ; 
and  yet,  although  he  certainly  had  occasion 
for  money  at  the  time,  and  assented  to  the 
Delay  in  proposal,  he  did  not  take  the  trouble  of 
^u'ingii  writing  a  line  of  it.  The  publisher  was  of 
course  displeased,  and  insisted  on  his  per- 
forming his  promise,  upon  which  Sheridan 
laughingly  replied  in  the  vein  of  Falstaff  : 


In  a  Club  Corner  143 

'  No,  Hal,  were  I  at  the  strappado,  I  would 
do  nothing  by  compulsion.'  He  did,  how- 
ever, write  it  out  at  length,  but  too  late, 
and  got  nothing  for  it." 

An  incident  in  keeping  with  this  occurred 
just  as  he  was  parting  with  an  acquaint- 
ance. "I  wrote  you  a  letter,"  said  Mr.  Mr.smyM 
Smyth  ;  "  it  was  an  angry  one  ;  you  will 
be  so  good  as  to  think  no  more  of  it." 
"  Oh,  certainly  not,  my  dear  Smyth,"  said 
Sheridan ;  "  I  shall  never  think  of  what 
you  have  said  in  it,  be  assured  ; "  and  put- 
ting his  hand  in  his  pocket,  "  Here  it  is," 
he  cried,  offering  it  to  Smyth,  who  was  glad 
enough  to  get  hold  of  it ;  and  looking  at  it 
as  he  was  going  to  throw  it  into  the  fire,  lo 
and  behold,  he  saw  that  it  had  never  been 
opened ! 

Sheridan's  solicitor  found  his  client's 
wife  one  day  walking  up  and  down  in  her 
drawing-room,  apparently  in  a  frantic  state 
of  mind.  He  inquired  of  Mrs.  Sheridan  Mrs. 
the  cause  of  such  violent  perturbation.  turk 
She  only  replied  that  her  husband  was  a 
"  villain."  On  the  man  of  business  further 
interrogating  her  as  to  what  had  so  sud- 
denly awakened  her  to  a  sense  of  that  fact, 
she  at  length  answered  with  some  hesita- 
tion :  "  Why,  I  have  discovered  that  all  the 


144  IH  a  Club  Corner 

love-letters  he  sent  me  were  the  very  same 
as  those  which  he  sent  to  his  first  wife !  " 

The  versatility  of  his  genius  and  his  ex- 
traordinary knowledge  of  human  nature 
and  of  human  affairs  naturally  made  him 
hesitate  in  his  written  performances.  In 
From  hi*  his  preface  to  The  Rivals  he  says:  "On 
The  mvais.  subjects  on  which  the  mind  has  been  much 
informed,  invention  is  slow  of  exerting 
itself.  Faded  ideas  float  in  the  fancy  like 
half -forgotten  dreams ;  and  the  imagina- 
tion in  its  fullest  enjoyments  becomes  sus- 
picious of  its  offspring,  and  doubts  whether 
it  has  created  or  adopted." 

The  history  of  The  School  for  Scandal  is 
a  curious  one.  The  play  was  written  piece- 
meal, and  in  great  haste,  having  been  an- 
nounced before  the  parts  were  delivered  to 
the  players.  Moore,  speaking  of  the  orig- 
inal manuscript,  says  that  the  last  five 
scenes  were  roughly  scribbled  on  odd 
scraps  of  paper,  the  last  leaf  bearing  the 
School/or  inscription  in  Sheridan's  writing  of  "  Fin- 
"finuhed."  ished,  thank  God,"  with  the  prompter's 
addendum,  "Amen.  W.  Hopkins."  No 
printed  copies  of  the  play,  authenticated 
by  the  author,  are  in  existence.  All  was 
thought  out  carefully  in  Sheridan's  mind 
before  paper  was  blotted.  One  of  his  sis- 


In  a  Club  Corner  145 

ters  tells  that   his   phrase   at   home  was, 

"  The   comedy   is   finished ;     I   have   now 

nothing  to  do  but  to  write  it."     The  entire 

work  has  been  pronounced  an  El  Dorado  EI  Dorado 

of  wit,  where  the  precious  metal  is  thrown  * 

about  by  all  classes  as  carelessly  as  if  they 

had  not  the  least  idea  of  value. 

The  great  success  of  the  play  was  an 
astonishment  to  him,  if  not  something  of 
a  terror.  "  Walking  along  Piccadilly  with 
Sheridan,"  says  Kelly,  "  I  asked  him  if  he 
had  told  the  queen  that  he  was  writing 
another  play.  He  said  he  had,  and  was 
actually  about  one.  '  Not  you,'  said  I  to 
him  ;  '  you  will  never  write  again  ;  you  are 
afraid  to  write.'  'Of  whom  am  I  afraid?' 
said  he,  fixing  his  penetrating  eye  on  me. 
I  said,  '  You  are  afraid  of  the  author  of  The 
School  for  Scandal.'  " 

Sheridan  was  very  particular  as  to  how  Particular 
his  plays  should  be  represented.     In  The  ranifaam 
Memoirs  of  Charles  Mathews,  by  his  wife, 
is  an  interesting  illustration.    Mathews  was 
to  play  Sir  Peter  Teazle,  in  The  School 
for  Scandal.     Sheridan,  then  proprietor  of 
Drury  Lane  theatre,  expressed  his  desire 
to  Mr.  Mathews  that  he  would  allow  the 
author  to  read  the  part  to  him,  and  give 
his  idea  of  the  manner  he  thought  that  Sir 


146  In  a  Club  Corner 

Peter  Teazle  should  be  acted.  Mathews 
had  many  misgivings  on  this  subject,  and 
most  embarrassing  it  proved  in  the  result ; 
for  so  totally  unlike  was  Sheridan's  read- 
ing of  the  character  from  every  other  con- 
ception of  it,  that  it  was  next  to  impos- 
sible for  the  actor  to  adopt  any  one  of  his 
suggestions.  Had  it  not  been  known 
that  Sheridan  was  the  author  of  the  play, 
it  would  have  been  difficult  to  credit  his 
acquaintance  with  the  part  in  question. 
The  consequence  may  be  anticipated. 
Sheridan  was  dissatisfied  with  Mathews' 
performance,  and  the  part  was  given  to 
another. 

There  are  many  anecdotes  told,  illustra- 
ting his  extravagance  and  carelessness  in 
money  matters.  His  brother  said  that  he 
once  found  the  window  frames  stuffed  with 
papers  to  prevent  them  from  rattling,  and, 
on  taking  them  out,  saw  that  they  were 
Novel «« of  bank-notes,  which  Sheridan  had  used  for 

bank-notes.  •    i  i 

this  purpose  some  stormy  night  and  never 
missed  them.  Sheridan  made  his  appear- 
ance one  day  in  a  new  pair  of  boots. 
These  attracting  the  notice  of  some  of  his 
friends — "Now  guess,"  said  he,  "howl 
came  by  these  boots  ?  "  Many  probable 
guesses  then  were  made.  "  No,"  said 


In  a  Club  Corner  147 

Sheridan,  "you  have  not  hit  it,  and  never 
will :  I  bought  them  and  paid  for  them." 
On  another  occasion  it  is  said  he  was  very 
much  distressed  for  a  pair  of  boots,  and  in  distress 
had  not  money  enough  to  pay  for  them.  ""' 
He  sent  his  servant  to  a  shoemaker's  shop 
to  tell  them  to  send  his  master  a  pair  of 
boots.  When  the  boots  came,  Sheridan 
complained  (like  Lord  Foppington)  "  that 
the  right  boot  pinched  him  execrably," 
and  ordered  him  to  take  it  back,  leaving 
the  left  boot  behind.  He  then  sends  his 
servant  to  another  shoemaker's,  and  serves 
him  the  same  trick  ;  only  sent  the  left  boot 
back.  He  thus  got  a  pair  of  boots,  and 
left  his  servant  to  settle  the  matter  with 
the  shoemakers.  A  friend  remonstrating 
with  him,  when  he  was  living  in  Orchard 
Street,  on  the  extravagance  of  his  estab- 
lishment, and  the  smallness  of  his  means 
to  support  it,  he  said,  "  My  dear  friend,  it 
is  my  means."  On  being  asked  what  wine 
he  liked  best,  he  replied,  "  Other  people's." 
He  told  Lord  North  he  had  taken  a  new 
house,  and  that  everything  would  now  go 
on  like  clock-work.  "  Ah,"  replied  his 
lordship,  "tick,  tick."  He  jocularly  re-»r/v*, 
marked  one  day  to  a  creditor  who  de- ttc*'" 
manded  instant  payment  of  a  long  stand- 


148  In  a  Club  Corner 

ing  debt  with  interest :  "  My  dear  sir,  you 
know  it  is  not  my  interest  to  pay  the  prin- 
cipal ;  nor  is  it  my  principle  to  pay  the  in- 
terest." 

Grief  for  his  His  grief  for  his  wife  was  in  sharp  con- 
trast with  his  gayety  and  carelessness.  "  I 
never,"  says  Michael  Kelly,  the  famous 
music  composer  and  singer,  "  I  never  be- 
held more  poignant  grief  than  Mr.  Sheri- 
dan felt  for  the  loss  of  his  beloved  wife ; 
and  although  the  world,  which  knew  him 
only  as  a  public  man,  will  perhaps  scarcely 
credit  the  fact,  I  have  seen  him,  night 
after  night,  sit  and  cry  like  a  child,  while  I 
sang  to  him,  at  his  desire,  a  pathetic  little 
song  of  my  own  composition,  They  Bore 
Her  to  Her  Grassy  Grave." 

From  all  accounts  he  must  have  been 
a  great  talker.  "  Poor  dear  Sherry  !  "  ex- 
claims Byron ;  "  I  shall  never  forget  the 
day  he,  and  Rogers,  and  Moore,  and  I, 
His  comer-  passed  together;  when  he  talked  and  we 
listened,  without  one  yawn,  from  six  till 
one  in  the  morning." 

It  is  said  that  he  never  spoke  well  until 
after  he  had  drank  a  couple  of  bottles  of 
port.  Father  O'Leary  said,  "This  was 
like  a  porter ;  he  could  not  get  on  with- 
out a  load  on  his  head."  When  he  wrote, 


In  a  Club  Corner  149 

he  always  drank.  "  A  glass  of  wine,"  he 
used  to  say,  "would  encourage  the  bright 
thought  to  come  ;  and  then  it  was  right  to 
take  another  to  reward  it  for  coming."  He 
told  Byron  that  on  the  night  of  the  grand  OK  the  night 
success  of  his  School  for  Scandal,  he  was 
knocked  down  and  put  into  the  watch- 
house,  for  making  a  row  in  the  street,  and 
being  found  intoxicated  by  the  watchman. 
Everybody  has  heard  of  his  answer  to  the 
watchman  who  found  him  bereft  of  that 
"divine  particle  of  air,"  called  reason. 
"He,  the  watchman,"  says  Byron,  "found 
Sherry  in  the  street,  fuddled  and  bewil- 
dered, and  almost  insensible.  "  Who  are 
you,  sir  ?  "  —  no  answer.  "  What 's  your 
name  ? "  —  a  hiccough.  "  What 's  your 
name,  I  say?"  Answer,  in  a  slow,  de- 
liberate, and  impressive  tone,  "  Wilber- 
force  ! " 

When  somebody  asked  Sheridan  how  it 
was  he  succeeded  so  well  in  the  house,  he 
replied,  "  Why,  sir,  I  had  not  been  there  £ 
very  long  before  I  found  three  fourths  of 
the  members  were  fools,  and  the  whole 
loved  a  joke.  I  resolved,  therefore,  not  to 
shock  them  by  too  much  severity  of  argu- 
ment, and  to  amuse  them  by  a  sufficient 
quantity  of  humor.  This  is  the  whole 


750  In  a  Club  Corner 

secret  of  my  success."  Once,  being  on  a 
parliamentary  committee,  he  arrived  when 
all  the  members  were  assembled  and 
seated,  and  about  to  commence  business. 
He  looked  round  in  vain  for  a  seat,  and 
then,  with  a  bow  and  a  quaint  twinkle  in 

o*e  <>/ his  his  eyes,  said,  "  Will  any  gentleman  move, 
that  I  might  take  the  chair  ?  "  During  the 
year  1806,  having  been  told  that  his  ene- 
mies took  pleasure  in  speaking  ill  of  him, 
on  account  of  his  favoring  an  obnoxious 
tax  which  his  party  was  about  to  force 
through  the  house,  —  "  Well,  let  them,"  he 
said  ;  "  it  is  but  fair  that  they  should  have 
some  pleasure  for  their  money."  Some 
mention  having  been  made  in  his  presence 
of  a  tax  upon  milestones,  he  said,  "  Such 
a  tax  would  be  unconstitutional,  as  they 
are  a  race  that  cannot  meet  to  remon- 
strate." 

Another.  The  saying  ascribed  to  Sheridan,  when 
seated  at  the  window,  a  few  days  before 
his  death,  and  seeing  a  hearse  go  by,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Ah,  that  is  the  carriage,  after 
all ! "  was  in  everybody's  mouth,  and  com- 
pared with  the  slow-coach  joke  of  Rogers, 
who,  when  told  that  it  was  called  the 
"  Regulator,"  remarked,  "  I  thought  so,  for 
all  the  others  go  by  it." 


In  a  Club  Corner  151 

He  was  disputing  one  day  with  Monk 
Lewis,  the  author  of  The  Castle  Spectre, 
which  had  filled  the  exhausted  treasury  of 
Drury  Lane,  when  the  latter,  in  support  of 
his  argument,  offered  to  bet  Sheridan  all 
the  money  The  Castle  Spectre  had  brought  The  castu 
that  he  was  right.  "No,"  answered  the 
manager  ;  "  I  cannot  afford  to  bet  so  much 
as  that ;  but  I  will  tell  you  what  I  will  do  — 
I  '11  bet  you  all  it 's  worth." 

Lord  Lauderdale,  happening  to  say  that 
he  would  repeat  some  good  things  of 
Sheridan's,  he  replied,  "  Pray,  don't,  my 
dear  Lauderdale  ;  a  joke  in  your  mouth  is 
no  laughing  matter." 

Being  asked,  "  Why  do  we  honor  ambi- 
tion and  despise  avarice,  while  they  are 
both  but  the  desire  of  possessing?"  "Be- 
cause," said  Sheridan,  "the  one  is  natural, 
the  other  artificial ;  the  one  the  sign  of 
mental  health,  the  other  of  mental  decay  ; 
the  one  appetite,  the  other  disease." 

Rogers  once  said  to  him,  "Your  admi- 
ration of  Mrs.  Siddons  is  so  high,  that  I  Mrs.sid- 
wonder  you  never  made  open  love  to 
her."  "To  her!"  exclaimed  Sheridan;  "to 
that  magnificent  and  appalling  creature ; 
I  should  as  soon  think  of  making  love  to 
the  Archbishop  of  Canterbury." 


1 52  In  a  Club  Corner 

One  day  he  met  two  royal  dukes  in  St. 

James  Street,  and  the  younger  flippantly 

remarked,  "I  say,  Sherry,  we   have  just 

been  discussing  whether  you  are  a  greater 

fool  or  rogue  :  what  is  your  opinion,  old 

boy  ? "     Sheridan  bowed,  smiled,   and,  as 

Reply  to  the  he  took  each  of  them  by  the  arm,  replied, 

dukes.         "  Why,  faith,  I  believe  I  am  between  both." 

Haydon,   the   painter,    says   that   once, 

when  Sheridan  was   dining  at   Somerset 

House,  and  they  were  all  in  fine  feather, 

the  servant  rushed  in,  exclaiming,  "  Sir,  the 

house  is  on  fire!"     "Bring  another  bottle 

of  claret,"  said  Sheridan;   "it  is  not  my 

house." 

GARRICK.  One  can  hardly  think  of  Garrick  without 
thinking  also  of  Dr.  Johnson.  The  great 
actor  and  the  great  moralist  are  so  con- 
nected that  it  is  difficult  to  disassociate 
them.  They  were  friends  for  more  than 
forty  years,  and  for  most  of  that  time  they 
were  intimate.  The  latter  kept  a  private 
school  at  Edial  Hall,  and  the  former  was 
one  of  his  three  pupils.  They  went  up  to 
London  together,  without  money  or  friends, 
to  force  their  fortunes.  Garrick  fixed  upon 
the  law,  but  poverty  interrupted  his  studies. 
Receiving  a  legacy  from  an  uncle,  he  com- 


In  a  Club  Corner  153 

menced  business  with  his  brother  as  a  wine 
merchant.  Foote  used  to  say,  by  way  of 
derision,  that  he  remembered  Garrick  liv-  F^* 
ing  in  Durham-yard,  with  three  quarts  of 
vinegar  in  the  cellar  calling  himself  a  wine 
merchant.  He  did  not  continue  in  the 
trade  long,  for  we  find  him  persevering  in 
his  attendance  upon  the  theatre,  writing 
theatrical  criticisms,  practicing  declama- 
tion, and  soon  making  his  appearance  as 
an  actor,  taking  the  name  of  Lyddal. 

His  genius  for  mimicry  began   to   dis-  Genius/or 
play  itself  at  a  very  early  age.     At  eleven,  """ 
we  are  told,  he  acted  in  a  play,  The  Re- 
cruiting Officer,  before  a  select  audience, 
with  great  applause.     As  manager  of  the 
company,  he  applied  to  Johnson  for  a  pro- 
logue,  without   success.     Afterwards   the 
future  colossus  of  literature  was  a  favorite 
subject  for  his  mimicry.     Funny  it  must 
have  been  to  the  boys  of  the  little  school 
at   Edial   to   see   the   future   great  actor, 
whose  death,  Johnson  said,  "  eclipsed  the 
gayety  of  nations,  and  impoverished   the 
stock  of  harmless  pleasures,"  take  off  «'the  Taking  0£ 
tumultuous    and   awkward   fondness "     of  7' 
their  master  for  "Tetty"  or  "Tetsey,"  as 
he  called  his  wife,  —  who  was  fat,  fifty,  and 
anything  but  pretty. 


i$4  Ina  Club  Corner 

He  rose  very  rapidly  in  his  profession. 
In  a  year  or  two  he  was  famous.  His 

His  natural  natural  acting  charmed  a  public  weary,  as 
was  said,  of  the  rant  and  affectation  of 
Macklin  or  Quin.  "  Garrick,  Madam," 
said  Dr.  Johnson  to  Mrs.  Siddons,  "was 
no  declaimer  ;  there  was  not  one  of  his 
own  scene-shifters  who  could  not  have 
spoken  To  be,  or  not  to  be,  better  than  he 
did ;  yet  he  was  the  only  actor  I  ever  saw 

A  master,  whom  I  could  call  a  master  both  in  tragedy 
and  comedy.  A  true  conception  of  char- 
acter, and  natural  expression  of  it,  were  his 
distinguished  excellences."  It  has  been 
said,  of  all  the  men  of  his  time,  he  is  the 
man  whom  one  would  perhaps  most  will- 
ingly have  seen,  because  the  gifts  which 
threw  not  only  Englishmen,  but  French- 
men like  Diderot,  and  Germans  like  Lich- 
tenberg,  into  amazement  and  ecstasy,  are 
exactly  those  gifts  which  literary  descrip- 

BurkSi  tion  can  do  least  to  reproduce.  Burke 
said  that  he  was  the  acutest  observer  of 
nature  that  he  had  ever  known. 

Garrick  had  a  brother  living  in  the  coun- 
try, who  was  an  idolatrous  admirer  of  his 
genius.  A  rich  neighbor,  a  grocer,  being 
about  to  visit  London,  this  brother  insisted 
on  his  taking  a  letter  of  introduction  to  the 


///  a  Club  Corner  755 

actor.  Not  being  able  to  make  up  his 
mind  to  visit  the  great  man  the  first  day, 
the  grocer  went  to  the  play  in  the  evening, 
and  saw  Garrick  in  Abel  Drugger.  On  his  in  AM 
return  to  the  country,  the  brother  eagerly 
inquired  respecting  the  visit  he  had  been 
so  anxious  to  bring  about.  "  Why,  Mr. 
Garrick,"  said  the  good  man,  "  I  am  sorry 
to  hurt  your  feelings,  but  there 's  your  let- 
ter. I  did  not  choose  to  deliver  it."  "  Not 
to  deliver  it ! "  exclaimed  the  other,  in  as- 
tonishment. "  I  happened  to  see  him  when 
he  did  not  know  me,  and  I  saw  that  he 
was  such  a  dirty,  low-lived  fellow,  that  I 
did  not  like  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
him." 

So  prodigious  was  his  fame  that  the 
great  Mr.  Pope  was  drawn  from  his  retreat 
at  Twickenham  to  see  him  ;  and  Lord  Or- 
rery was  so  struck  with  his  performance 
that  he  said,  "  I  am  afraid  the  young  man 
will  be  spoiled,  for  he  will  have  no  com- 
petitor." Hogarth  saw  him  in  Richard  HogarMs 

judgment 

III.,  and  on  the  following  night  in  Abel 
Drugger  :  he  was  so  struck,  that  he  said  to 
Garrick,  "  You  are  in  your  element,  when 
you  are  begrimed  with  dirt,  or  up  to  your 
elbows  in  blood."  Quin,  in  his  sarcastic 
vein,  said  :  "  This  is  the  wonder  of  a  day ; 


1 56  In  a  Club  Corner 

Garrick  is  a  new  religion  ;  the  people  fol- 
low him  as  another  Whitefield ;  but  they 
will  soon  return  to  Church  again." 

A  mute's  A  Mr.  Shireff,  a  deaf  and  dumb  man, 
was  asked,  "  Did  you  know  Garrick  ? " 
"Yes,"  the  man  replied,  in  his  own  way. 
"Did  you  ever  see  him  act?"  "Yes," 
was  the  reply  again.  "  Did  you  admire 
him?"  "Yes."  "How  could  that  be, 
when  you  could  not  hear  him,  and,  of 
course,  could  not  understand  him  ? "  The 
answer,  when  it  came,  was  astonishing  in- 

Garrice*  deed  :  "  Garrick's  face  was  a  language  ! " 
He  must  have  been  a  trying  sitter  to  the 
painters.  A  story  is  told  of  the  way  he 
tried  the  patience  and  temper  of  Gains- 
borough. He  paid  sixteen  visits  to  the 
artist's  studio,  and  on  each  occasion  had 
imperceptibly  wrought  a  change  in  his 
features  ;  at  last  the  painter,  declaring  he 
could  not  paint  a  man  with  such  a  "  Pro- 
tean phiz,"  threw  down  his  brush  in  de- 
spair. Macaulay  says :  "  I  have  seen  sev- 

pMuresaa  eral  pictures  of  Garrick,  none  resembling 
another ;  and  I  have  heard  Hannah  More 
speak  of  the  extraordinary  variety  of  coun- 
tenances by  which  he  was  distinguished." 
Boswell,  referring  to  Garrick's  fame,  said 
he  was  assuming  the  airs  of  a  great  man. 


In  a  Club  Corner  157 

Johnson  said,  "  Sir,  it  is  wonderful  how 
little  Garrick  assumes.  Consider,  sir; 
celebrated  men,  such  as  you  have  men- 
tioned, have  had  their  applause  at  a  dis- 
tance ;  but  Garrick  had  it  dashed  in  his 

_  -it  dashed 

face,  sounded  in  his  ears,  and  went  home  his  face. 
every  night  with  the  plaudits  of  a  thousand 
in  his  cranium.  Then,  sir,  Garrick  did  not 
find,  but  made  his  way  to  the  tables,  the 
levees,  and  almost  to  the  bed-chambers  of 
the  great."  Johnson  would  attack,  and  al- 
most abuse,  Garrick,  but  he  would  permit 
no  one  else  to  do  so  —  especially  to  speak 
of  him  apologetically.  He  once  said  to 
Boswell,  with  a  stern  look,  "  Sir,  I  have 
known  David  Garrick  longer  than  you 
have  known  him  ;  and  I  know  no  right  you 
have  to  talk  to  me  on  the  subject." 

Foote,  being  notoriously  lavish  with  his 
money,  was  fond  of  taking  off  Garrick's 
reputed  niggardliness.  At  the  Chapter 
Coffee-house,  Foote  and  his  friends  were  t 
making  a  contribution  for  the  relief  of  a 
poor  fellow,  a  decayed  player,  who  was 
nicknamed  the  Captain  of  the  Four  Winds, 
because  his  hat  was  torn  into  four  spouts. 
Each  person  of  the  company  dropped  his 
mite  into  the  hat,  as  it  was  held  out  to 
him.  "  If  Garrick  hears  of  this,"  ex- 


/  5<S  In  a  Club  Corner 

claimed  Foote,  "  he  will  certainly  send  us 
his  hat."     He  had  a  small  bust  of  Garrick 
placed  upon  his  bureau.     "  You    may  be 
surprised,"  said  he,  "  that  I  allow  him  to  be 
Foote's        so  near  my  gold  ;  but  you  will  observe  he 
J°  has  no  hands."     Foote  and  Garrick  were 

leaving  the  Bedford  one  night  when  Foote 
had  been  the  entertainer,  and  on  his  pull- 
ing out  his  purse  to  pay  the  bill,  a  guinea 
dropped.  Impatient  at  not  immediately 
finding  it,  "Where  on  earth  can  it  be  gone 
to  ?  "  he  said.  "  Gone  to  the  devil,  I  think," 
rejoined  Garrick,  who  had  sought  for  it 
elsewhere.  "Well  said,  David,"  cried 
Foote ;  "  let  you  alone  for  making  a  guinea 
go  farther  than  anybody  else." 

Johnson  said,  when  some  one  present 
accused  Garrick  of  penuriousness,  "Gar- 
joknson's  rick,  sir,  has  given  away  more  money  than 
any  man  in  England  that  I  am  acquainted 
with,  and  that  not  from  ostentatious  views. 
Garrick  was  very  poor  when  he  began  life ; 
so,  when  he  came  to  have  money,  he  prob- 
ably was  very  unskillful  in  giving  away,  and 
saved  when  he  should  not.  But  Garrick 
began  to  be  liberal  as  soon  as  he  could." 

They  had  much  to  say  about  his  vanity, 
especially  those  who  were  envious  of  him. 
It  is  said  that  a  gentleman  of  the  law,  who 


In  a  Club  Corner  159 

could  not  miss  an  opportunity  of  laughing 
at  the  great  actor's  vanity,  met  him  one  AS  to  the 
day,  and  told  him  he  had  been  applied  to  •vanity. 
by  the  booksellers  to  publish  an  edition  of 
the  Statutes  at  Large,  and  he  hoped  he 
should  find  a  snug  niche  in  them  to  intro- 
duce him.  At  a  dinner  at  Thrale's,  a  gen- 
tleman attacked  Garrick  for  being  vain. 
Johnson  said,  "  No  wonder,  sir,  that  he  is 
vain  ;  a  man  who  is  perpetually  flattered  in 
every  mode  that  can  be  conceived.  So 
many  bellows  have  blown  the  fire,  that  one 
wonders  he  is  not  by  this  time  become  a 
cinder." 

"  It  was  in  Lear's  madness,"  as  Murphy 
observes,  "  that  Garrick's  genius  was  re-  His  genius 
markably  distinguished.  He  had  no  sud-  madness. 
den  starts,  no  violent  gesticulation ;  his 
movements  were  slow  and  feeble  ;  misery 
was  depicted  in  his  countenance  ;  he  moved 
his  head  in  the  most  deliberate  manner ; 
his  eyes  were  fixed,  or,  if  they  turned  to 
any  one  near  him,  he  made  a  pause,  and 
fixed  his  look  on  the  person  after  much 
delay  ;  his  features  at  the  same  time  telling 
what  he  was  going  to  say,  before  he  uttered 
a  word.  During  the  whole  time,  he  pre- 
sented a  sight  of  woe  and  misery,  and  a 
total  alienation  of  mind  from  every  idea 


i6o 


In  a  Club  Corner 


Hints  that 
guided  kitn 
in  the  part. 


His  dis- 
tracted 
friend. 


but  that  of  his  unkind  daughters.  He  was 
used  to  tell  how  he  acquired  the  hints  that 
guided  him,  when  he  began  to  study  this 
great  and  difficult  part :  he  was  acquainted 
with  a  worthy  man,  who  lived  in  Leman 
Street,  Goodman's  Fields  ;  this  friend  had 
an  only  daughter  about  two  years  old  ;  he 
stood  at  his  dining-room  window,  fondling 
the  child,  and  dandling  it  in  his  arms,  when 
it  was  his  misfortune  to  drop  the  infant 
into  a  flagged  area,  where  it  died  instantly. 
He  remained  at  his  window  screaming  in 
agonies  of  grief.  The  neighbors  flocked 
to  the  house,  took  up  the  child,  and  de- 
livered it  dead  to  the  unhappy  father,  who 
wept  bitterly,  and  filled  the  street  with 
lamentations.  He  lost  his  senses,  and 
from  that  moment  never  recovered  his  un- 
derstanding. As  he  had  a  sufficient  for- 
tune, his  friends  chose  to  let  him  remain 
in  his  house,  under  two  keepers  appointed 
by  a  physician.  Garrick  frequently  went 
to  see  his  distracted  friend,  who  passed  the 
remainder  of  his  life  in  going  to  the  win- 
dow, and  there  playing  in  fancy  with  his 
child.  After  some  dalliance,  he  dropped 
it,  and,  bursting  into  a  flood  of  tears,  filled 
the  house  with  shrieks  of  grief  and  bitter 
anguish.  He  then  sat  down  in  a  pensive 


In  a  Club  Corner  161 

mood,  his  eyes  fixed  on  one  object,  at  times 
looking  slowly  round  him,  as  if  to  implore 
compassion.  Garrick  was  often  present  at 
this  scene  of  misery,  and  was  ever  after 
used  to  say,  that  it  gave  him  the  first  idea 
of  King  Lear's  madness." 

The  great  actor  was  extremely  sensitive,  sensit 
His  great  sensibility  made  him  fear,  defer  **' 
to,  and  ever  ready  to  conciliate  the  public. 
"When  he  first  acted  Macbeth,"  Davies 
tells  us,  "  he  was  so  alarmed  with  the  fears 
of  critical  examination,  that  during  his 
preparation  for  the  character,  he  devoted 
some  part  of  the  time  to  the  writing  of  a 
humorous  pamphlet  upon  the  subject.  He 
knew  that  his  manner  of  representing  Mac- 
beth would  be  essentially  different  from 
that  of  all  the  actors  who  had  played  it  for 
twenty  or  thirty  years  before,  and  he  was 
therefore  determined  to  attack  himself 
ironically,  to  blunt,  if  not  to  prevent,  the 
remarks  of  others.  This  pamphlet  was 


11      i         A          T-  A  •  1-1     pamphlet. 

called  'An  Essay  on  Acting;  in  which 
will  be  considered  the  mimical  Behavior 
of  a  certain  fashionable  faulty  Actor,  and 
the  Laudableness  of  such  unmanly,  as  well 
as  inhuman  Proceedings  ;  to  which  will 
be  added,  A  Short  Criticism  on  his  act- 
ing Macbeth.'  It  had  this  motto  on  the 


i  62  In  a  Club  Corner 

title-page:    'Macbeth    has  murdered  Gar- 
rick.'  " 

His  extreme  sensibility  was  not  incon- 

stageftei-  sistent  with  his  stage  feeling.  It  is  re- 
corded of  him,  that  whilst  he  was  drowning 
the  house  in  tears,  in  the  fourth  act  of 
Lear,  he  put  his  tongue  in  his  cheek,  and 
said  to  King,  during  the  applause,  "  D — n 
me,  Tom,  it  will  do,  it  will  do."  It  made 
him  painfully  dread  ridicule.  On  one  occa- 
sion, it  is  said,  Quin  went  to  the  pit  to  see 
his  rival  act.  It  was  at  a  time  when  Ho- 
garth's Marriage  a  la  Mode  was  familiar  to 
every  one.  One  of  the  prints  of  that  series 
represents  a  negro  boy  bringing  in  the  tea 
things.  When  Garrick,  with  his  diminu- 
tive figure  and  blackened  face,  came  for- 
ward as  Othello,  Quin  exclaimed,  "  Here  is 
Pompey,  but  where  is  the  tray  ? "  The 
effect  was  electrical,  and  Garrick  never 
attempted  Othello  again. 

Footeand  Foote  was  gigantic,  as  Garrick  was  di- 
minutive in  stature.  The  former  was 
audacious  and  aggressive  in  manner,  the 
latter  good-natured,  vivacious,  and  deferen- 
tial ;  but  he  could  defend  himself.  We  are 
told  of  how  a  project  of  Foote's  to  publicly 
ridicule  Garrick  fell  through  in  a  singular 
manner.  The  parties  met,  as  if  by  acci- 


In  a  Club  Corner  163 

dent,  at  the  house  of  a  nobleman,  the  com- 
mon friend  of  both  ;  when  alighting  at  the 
same  time  from  their  chariots  at  his  lord- 
ship's door,  and  exchanging  significant 
looks  at  each  other,  Garrick  broke  silence 
first  by  asking,  "Is  it  war  or  peace?"  ^f- 
"  Oh !  peace,  by  all  means,"  replied  Foote, 
with  apparent  good  will,  and  the  two  spent 
the  day  amicably  together. 

Davies  states  that  after  Mr.  Garrick  had 
been  abroad  about  a  year  and  a  half,  sa- 
tiated with  the  amusements  and  pleasures 
of  the  continent,  he  turned  his  thoughts 
towards  his  native  country.  But  before  he 
would  set  out  for  Calais,  he  was  resolved 
to  put  in  practice  his  usual  method  of  pre- 
venting censure,  and  blunting  the  edge  of 
ridicule,  by  anticipation.  For  this  purpose, 
before  he  left  Paris,  he  sat  down  very 
seriously  to  write  a  kind  of  satirical  poem 
on  himself  ;  it  was  called  The  Sick  Monkey,  The  sick 
and  the  plan  of  it  was,  the  talk  or  censure 
of  other  animals  and  reptiles  on  him  and 
his  travels,  etc.  This  poem  he  sent  from 
Paris  to  a  friend,  with  a  request  that  he 
would  have  it  printed,  to  prepare  for  his 
reception  in  London.  It  attracted  little 
attention,  and  died  almost  still-born. 

He  had  intuitively  perceived  what  was 


164  In  a  Club  Corner 

The  world  soon  to  take  place.  The  world  likes  change. 
The  play-goers  of  London  got  tired  even  of 
Garrick.  It  is  related  as  a  fact,  that  one 
night  the  cash  receipts  of  Drury  Lane, 
though  Garrick  and  Mrs.  Gibber  performed 
in  the  same  play,  amounted  to  no  more 
than  three  pounds,  fifteen  shillings,  and 
sixpence ! 


0*  GIVING  The  wise  do  not  need  counsel,  and  fools 
will  not  take  it,  is  one  of  the  pregnant  sen- 
tences of  Seneca.  And  what,  to  say  truth, 
is  more  difficult  than  counsel  in  the  con- 
duct of  life  ?  Right  and  wrong,  says  Man- 
zoni,  never  are  divided  with  so  clean  a 
cut,  that  one  party  has  the  whole  of  either. 
To  give  advice,  as  to  do  good,  we  must 
know  how  to  do  it ;  and,  like  everything 
else,  we  can  only  know  this  through  the 
medium  of  our  own  passions,  our  own  judg- 
ment, our  own  ideas;  which  not  unfre- 
quently  are  rather  as  correct  as  they  are 
capable  of  being,  than  as  they  ought  to  be. 
"When  one  has  looked  about  him  in  the 

Goethe  to      world  long  enough,"  said  Goethe  to  Ecker- 

'*'  mann,   "to   see   how   the   most    judicious 

enterprises   frequently  fail,  and  the  most 

absurd  have  the  good  fortune  to  succeed, 

he  becomes  disinclined  to  give   any  one 


In  a  Club  Corner  165 

advice.  At  bottom,  he  who  asks  advice 
shows  himself  limited  ;  he  who  gives  it 
gives  also  proof  that  he  is  presumptuous. 
If  any  one  asks  me  for  good  advice,  I  say, 
I  will  give  it,  but  only  on  condition  that 
you  will  promise  not  to  take  it."  "  I  have 
always  hated  to  give  advice,"  says  Haw- 
thorne, in  the  same  strain,  "especially 
when  there  is  a  prospect  of  its  being  taken. 
It  is  only  one-eyed  people  who  love  to  ad-  one-«ysd 

,  •  People. 

vise,  or  have  any  spontaneous  promptitude 
of  action.  When  a  man  opens  both  his 
eyes,  he  generally  sees  about  as  many 
reasons  for  acting  in  any  one  way  as  in 
any  other,  and  quite  as  many  for  acting  in 
neither;  and  is  therefore  likely  to  leave 
his  friends  to  regulate  their  own  conduct, 
and  also  to  remain  quiet  as  regards  his 
especial  affairs  till  necessity  shall  prick 
him  onward.  Nevertheless,  the  world  and 
individuals  flourish  upon  a  constant  sue-  A  succession 
cession  of  blunders."  "Why  do  you  so 
much  admire  the  Helen  of  Zeuxis?"  said 
Nicostratus.  "You  would  not  wonder 
why  I  so  much  admired  it,"  replied  the 
painter,  "if  you  had  my  eyes."  Once 
when  Giotto,  regenerator  of  art,  had  been 
summoned  to  Naples  by  King  Robert,  and 
was  executing  some  paintings  for  that  sov- 


1 66  In  a  Club  Corner 

ereign,  the  king  remarked  to  him :  "  Giotto, 
if  I  were  in  your  place,  now  that  the 
weather  is  so  hot,  I  would  give  up  paint- 
ing for  a  time,  and  take  my  rest."  "  And 
Giotto  to  the  so  I  would  do,  certainly,"  replied  Giotto, 
"  if  I  were  in  your  place."  "  To  look  on 
things  like  a  philosopher,"  says  Moliere, 
"there's  nothing  occurs  to  me  more  fan- 
tastical and  more  impertinent  than  for  one 
man  to  pretend  to  cure  another." 

Ln«rs-  There  are  limits  to  everything  human. 

Emerson's  stumbling-block  at  college  was 
mathematics.  There  is  authority  for  the 
story  that  at  a  late  period  in  life  he  unwit- 
tingly cheated  a  poor  Irishman,  while  pay- 
ing him  for  some  work,  by  calculating  that 
seven  times  seven  were  twenty-seven,  and 
the  error  was  not  detected  until  Pat,  who 
had  doubts  about  the  matter,  consulted  a 
neighbor  and  came  back  for  a  settlement 
At  Drury  Lane  theatre  the  most  important 
novelty  from  Henderson  was  King  John ; 

A  scene  in  and  in  the  great  scene  with  Hubert,  his 
deep  smothered  undertones  had  a  terrible 
effect  upon  those  near  enough  to  enjoy  the 
cunning  of  the  scene.  The  distant  auditor 
complained,  as  will  constantly  be  the  case 
in  theatres  of  any  size,  unless  a  mode  of 


In  a  Club  Corner  167 

utterance  be  adopted  by  the  actor,  removed 
very  far  from  the  natural  elevation. or  usual 
articulation  of  the  voice.  As  we  think, 
says  Dr.  Holmes,  the  same  thing  over 
many  millions  of  times,  and  as  many  per- 
sons keep  up  their  social  relations  by  the 
aid  of  a  vocabulary  of  only  a  few  hundred 

J  .     J  -       _       vocabulary. 

words,  or,  in  the  case  of  some  very  fash- 
ionable people,  a  few  scores  only,  a  very 
limited  amount  of  thinking  material  may 
correspond  to  a  full  set  of  organs  of  sense, 
and  a  good  development  of  the  muscular 
system.  The  author  of  Lothair  makes 
Pinto  exclaim,  "English  is  an  expressive 
language,  but  not  difficult  to  master.  Its 
range  is  limited.  It  consists,  as  far  as 
I  observe,  of  four  words:  'nice/  'jolly,' 
'charming,'  and  'bore;'  and  some  gram- 
marians add,  '  fond.'  "  Our  language,  it  is 
estimated,  contains  about  one  hundred  and 
twenty-five  thousand  words ;  yet,  remarks 
an  English  writer,  of  this  immense  number 
it  is  surprising  how  few  are  in  common 
use.  I  have  seen  it  stated  on  scholarly 
authority  that  a  child  does  not  commonly 
use  more  than  a  hundred  words ;  and,  un- 
less he  belongs  to  a  cultivated  family,  he 
will  never  habitually  employ  more  than 
three  or  four  hundred.  An  American 


1 68  In  a  Club  Corner 

scholar  estimates  that  few  practical  writers 
or  speakers  use  as  many  as  ten  thousand 
words  in  threescore  years  of  public  life. 
Speakers  employ  not  so  many  by  a  large 
ritersem-  count  as  writers  employ.  Max  Miiller  says 

,%<£"*  that  "a  well  educated  person  that  has  been 
at  a  public  school  in  England  and  at  an 
English  university,  who  reads  his  Bible  and 
Shakespeare,  and  all  the  books  in  Mudie's 
Library  —  that  is,  nineteen  twentieths  of 
all  the  books  published  in  England  —  sel- 
dom uses  more  than  three  or  four  thousand 
words  in  actual  conversation."  Eloquent 
speakers,  he  thinks,  may  rise  to  a  command 
of  ten  thousand.  "  Even  Milton,"  writes 
utomues  another  critic,  "Milton,  whose  wealth  of 

fnd.  words  seems  amazing,  and  whom  Dr.  John- 
son charges  with  using  a  Babylonish  dia- 
lect, uses  only  about  eight  thousand  ;  and 
Shakespeare,  the  'myriad -minded,'  only 
fifteen  thousand."  The  Old  Testament 
contains  less  by  some  hundreds  than  six 
thousand  words. 

G  cfuR-K~       "  What   did   you   say  ? "  cried  Mrs.  Joe 

ELVES  UP.    Gargery,    beginning   to    scream.     "What 

did  you  say  ?     What  did  that  fellow  say  to 

me,  Pip  ?     What  did  he  call  me,  with  my 

husband  standing  by  ?    O  !  O  !  O  ! "   Each 


In  a  Club  Corner  169 

of  these  exclamations  was  a  shriek  ;  and 
Pip  remarks  of  his  sister,  what  is  equally 
true  of  all  the  violent  women  he  had  ever 
seen,  that  passion  was  no  excuse  for  her, 
because  it  was  undeniable  that  instead  of 
lapsing  into  passion,  she  consciously  and 
deliberately  took  extraordinary  pains  to 
force  herself  into  it,  and  became  blindly 
furious  by  regular  stages.  The  full  grown 
Goojerat,  or  maneless  lion  of  South  Africa,  Tt*  GOO- 
IS  furnished  with  a  rudimentary  claw  at""' 
the  end  of  his  tail.  This  little  appendage 
was  supposed  by  the  ancients  to  be  instru- 
mental in  lashing  the  animal  into  fury, 
and  Mr.  Gordon  Gumming  says  that  the 
natives  believe  it  to  be  the  residence  of 
an  evil  spirit  which  never  deserts  its  post 
until  death  overtakes  the  beast  and  gives 
it  notice  to  quit.  We  strain  ourselves  up, 
each  in  his  own  way,  somewhat  as  Ma- 
cready  worked  himself  up  for  his  great 
parts  on  the  stage.  "  Mr.  Macready,  you 
know,"  said  a  director  of  Her  Majesty's 
theatre,  "when  engaging  his  dresser, 
whom  I  knew  very  well,  arranged  that 
when  he  shook  him  he  should  pay  him 
double  wages,  and  when  he  struck  him  his 
pay  should  be  trebled.  I  think  that  dresser 
used  to  get  treble  wages  all  the  while  Ma- 


/7o  In  a  Club  Corner 

cready  was  at  Drury  Lane.  I  went  once 
to  Macready's  dressing-room  during  the 
performance.  The  tragedian  had  the 
dresser  in  the  corner  and  was  nearly  chok- 
ing  him.  He  was  rehearsing  his  part.  He 
afterward  rushed  upon  the  stage  and  star- 
tled his  audience  by  his  brilliant  acting." 
Talma,  in  order  to  work  up  his  grand 
bursts  of  passion,  would  seize  upon  any 
unfortunate  super  whom  he  came  upon 
behind  the  scenes,  and  shake  him  until  he 
himself  had  become  breathless  and  the 
man  frightened  beyond  all  control  at  his 
•  assumed  violence.  The  peculiarities  both 

of  Macready  and  Talma  were  only  in  ac- 
cordance with  that  precedent  furnished  in 
ancient  history,  though  with  less  disas- 
trous results.  According  to  Plutarch, 
sEsohtke  ALsop,  the  Roman  actor,  so  interested  him- 
actor.  self  in  the  characters  he  undertook  that, 
one  day,  when  he  played  Atreus,  he  in  that 
scene  where  it  falls  to  his  lot  to  consider 
how  he  might  best  destroy  the  tyrant  Thy- 
estes,  worked  himself  up  into  such  a  pitch 
of  ungovernable  rage  that  he  struck  one  of 
the  minor  performers  with  his  sceptre  and 
laid  him  dead  at  his  feet. 


In  a  Club  Corner  171 

Human  society  is  always  swaying,  back-  OFINCALC 
ward  and  forward  —  vibrating,  like  the  FORCES. 
pendulum,  from  one  extreme  to  another ; 
for  a  moment  only,  now  and  then,  is  it 
upright,  and  governed  by  reason.  Mod- 
eration is  exceptional  and  hateful.  Happy 
if  the  world's  favorite  to-day  be  not  its 
victim  to-morrow.  A  dramatist  was  walk- 
ing one  day  in  the  Rue  St.  Honore  with 
his  friend  Talma,  then  at  the  commence-  Talma. 
ment  of  his  career,  when  a  young  officer  in 
a  shabby  lieutenant's  uniform  met  them, 
and  said  to  the  actor,  "Remember  to- 
morrow." Talma  nodded  assent,  and  the 
other  passed  on.  "  Who  is  that  ? "  was 
asked.  "  The  torment  of  my  life,"  was  the 
reply.  "A  young  fellow  without  a  sou, 
who  is  perpetually  plaguing  me  for  tickets 
of  admission  to  the  theatre.  Not  a  bad 
judge,  I  must  say,"  he  continued.  "  Knows 
all  our  classics  by  heart,  and  won't  listen 
to  anything  but  Corneille  and  Racine." 
Some  twenty  years  later,  the  two  friends 
chanced  to  meet  again  in  the  Place  du 
Carrousel,  at  the  very  moment  when  Na-  Napoleon, 
poleon  was  starting  for  his  daily  ride.  On 
seeing  Talma  he  stopped  his  horse,  and 
spoke  a  few  words  to  him.  When  he  had 
left  them,  the  tragedian,  turning  to  his 


172  In  a  Club  Corner 

companion,  asked  if  he  recollected  the 
young  lieutenant  who  used  formerly  to 
bother  him  for  tickets.  On  the  latter's 
confessing  that  he  had  quite  forgotten  the 
circumstance,  "  Ah,"  observed  Talma,  "  I 
have  more  reason  to  remember  him  than 
you  have.  He  is  Emperor  now,  and  I  am 
a  poor  devil  of  an  actor."  The  House  of 

warren  Commons  impeached  Warren  Hastings  in 
"*'"**'  1787;  the  House  of  Commons  uncovered 
and  stood  up  to  receive  him  in  1813. 
Traveling  through  Switzerland,  Napoleon 
was  greeted  with  such  enthusiasm  that 
Bourrienne  said  to  him,  "  It  must  be  de- 
lightful to  be  greeted  with  such  demon- 
strations of  enthusiastic  admiration." 
"  Bah  ! "  replied  Napoleon,  "  this  same  un- 
thinking crowd,  under  a  slight  change  of 
circumstances,  would  follow  me  just  as 

jjiraka*,  eagerly  to  the  scaffold."  Mirabeau,  on  a 
famous  occasion,  amid  the  threatening 
clamors  of  an  angry  crowd  said,  "A  few 
days  ago  I  too  was  to  be  carried  in  tri- 
umph, and  now  they  are  bawling  through 
the  streets,  '  the  great  treason  of  the  Count 
of  Mirabeau.'  This  lesson  was  not  nec- 
essary to  remind  me  that  the  distance  is 
short  between  the  Capitol  and  the  Tarpe- 
ian  Rock."  "What  throngs!  what  accla- 


In  a  Club  Corner  173 

mations,"  exclaimed  the  flatterers  of  Crom- 
well, when  he  was  proclaimed  Protector  of 
the  Commonwealth  of  England.  Crom- 
well replied,  "  There  would  be  still  more,  if 
they  were  going  to  hang  me."  Themulti- 
tudes  that  went  before  and  that  followed  rusaiem. 
Christ  into  Jerusalem,  crying,  "  Hosanna 
to  the  Son  of  David :  Blessed  is  he  that 
cometh  in  the  name  of  the  Lord  :  Hosanna 
in  the  highest,"  "cried  out  again,  Crucify 
him.  Then  Pilate  said  unto  them,  Why, 
what  evil  hath  he  done  ?  and  they  cried 
out  the  more  exceedingly,  Crucify  him." 
The  elements  of  a  riot  are  varied  and 
mixed,  like  the  composite  clothes  that  were 
worn  by  Dennis,  the  hangman,  in  Barnaby 
Rudge  —  garments  belonging  to  the  per- 
sons he  had  hanged.  Dickens,  in  his  de- 
scription of  the  Lord  George  Gordon  riots, 
gives  prominence,  not  only  to  Dennis,  the 
executioner,  but  to  Hugh,  the  brute,  Simon 
Tappertitt,  the  locksmith's  half-crazy  ap- 
prentice, and  Barnaby  Rudge,  the  half- 
idiot.  Every  one  remembers  Hugo's  anal-  ^^jf^ 
ysis  of  a  tumult.  "  Irritated  convictions, 
embittered  enthusiasms,  aroused  indigna- 
tions, martial  instincts  suppressed,  youth- 
ful courage  exalted,  and  generous  blind- 
nesses ;  curiosity,  a  taste  for  a  change, 


IJ4  lna  Club  Corner 

thirst  for  something  unexpected,  the  feel- 
ing which  causes  us   to  find   pleasure  in 
reading  the  announcement  of  a  new  piece, 
or   on   hearing    the    machinist's  whistle ; 
Hatreds,      vague  hatreds,    rancors,   disappointments, 
rd£at£>M-    every  vanity  which  believes  that   destiny 
has    been    a    bankrupt  to   it ;   straitened 
circumstances,    empty   dreams,   ambitions 
surrounded  with  escarpments,  every  man 
who  hopes  for  an  issue  from  an  overthrow, 
and   lastly,  at  the  very  bottom,  the  mob, 
Tkatmvd    that  mud  which  takes  fire  —  such  are  the 

which  takes        ,  - 

fire.  elements  of  not.  The  greatest  and  the 

most  infamous,  beings  who  prowl  about 
beyond  the  pale  of  everything  while 
awaiting  an  opportunity,  gypsies,  name- 
less men,  highway  vagabonds,  the  men  who 
sleep  o'  nights  in  a  desert  of  houses  with 
no  other  roof  but  the  cold  clouds  of  heaven, 
those  who  daily  ask  their  bread  of  chance, 
and  not  of  toil ;  the  unknown  men  of 
wretchedness  and  nothingness,  with  bare 
arms  and  bare  feet,  belong  to  the  riot. 
Every  man  who  has  in  his  soul  a  secret  re- 
volt against  any  act  of  the  state,  of  life,  or 
of  destiny,  is  on  the  border  line  of  riot,  and 
so  soon  as  it  appears,  he  begins  to  quiver 

Liftedbythe  and  to  feel  himself  lifted  by  the  whirlwind." 
"Few  terrestrial  appearances,"  says  Car- 


In  a  Club  Corner  775 

lyle,   "are  better  worth    considering  than 
mobs.     Your  mob  is  a  genuine  outburst  A 

outburst  of 

of  nature,  issuing  from,  or  communicating  nature. 
with,  the  deepest  deeps  of  nature.  When 
so  much  goes  grinning  and  grimacing  as  a 
lifeless  formality,  and  under  the  stiff  buck- 
ram no  heart  can  be  felt  beating,  here 
once  more,  if  nowhere  else,  is  a  sincerity 
and  reality.  Shudder  at  it  ;  or  even  shriek  shudder  at 
over  it,  if  thou  must  ;  nevertheless  con-  a'  c° 
sider  it."  "  The  world,"  said  Goethe,  "  is 
not  so  framed  that  it  can  keep  quiet  ;  the 
great  are  not  so  that  they  will  not  permit 
misuse  of  power  ;  the  masses  not  so  that, 
in  hope  of  a  gradual  amelioration,  they 
will  keep  tranquil  in  an  inferior  condition. 
Could  we  perfect  human  nature,  we  might 
expect  perfection  everywhere  ;  but  as  it  is, 
there  will  always  be  this  wavering  hither 
and  thither  ;  one  part  must  suffer  while 
the  other  is  at  ease."  "  It  is  with  human 


things,"  says  Froude,  "as  it  is  with  the  «  ««M 
great  icebergs  which  drift  southward  out 
of  the  frozen  seas.  They  swim  two  thirds 
under  water,  and  one  third  above  ;  and  so 
long  as  the  equilibrium  is  sustained  you 
would  think  that  they  were  as  stable  as  the 
rocks.  But  the  sea  water  is  warmer  than 
the  air.  Hundreds  of  fathoms  down,  the 


/7<5  In  a  Club  Corner 

tepid  current  washes  the  base  of  the  berg. 
The  centre    Silently,  in  those  far  deeps  the  centre  of 

of  gravity  .     J\ 

changed.  gravity  is  changed  ;  and  then,  in  a  mo- 
ment, with  one  vast  roll,  the  enormous 
mass  heaves  over,  and  the  crystal  peaks 
which  had  been  glancing  so  proudly  in  the 
sunlight  are  buried  in  the  ocean  forever." 
"The  secret  which  you  would  fain  keep, 
as  soon  as  you  go  abroad,  lo !  there  is  one 
standing  on  the  door-step  to  tell  you  the 
same."  The  revolution  is  all  at  once  ripe, 
The  bottom  and  the  bottom  is  at  the  top  again.  No- 
««*•.  body  and  everybody  is  responsible.  "It 
is  seldom,"  says  John  Gait,  in  his  life  of 
Wolsey,  "  that  any  man  can  sway  the  cur- 
rent of  national  affairs  ;  but  a  wide  and 
earnest  system  of  action  never  fails  to  pro- 
duce results  which  resemble  the  pree'x- 
pected  effects  of  particular  designs."  At 
the  gorgeous  coronation  of  Napoleon,  some 
one  asked  the  republican  general  Auge- 
reau  whether  anything  was  wanting  to  the 
splendor  of  the  scene.  "Nothing,"  re- 
plied Augereau,  "  but  the  presence  of  the 
million  of  men  who  have  died  to  do  away 
with  all  this." 


The  milking  of  the  buffalo  of  the  Cam- 
THE  AFTBC-   pagna,  outside  of  the  city  of  Rome,  is  done 


THROUGH 
THE  A 

T10NS. 


In  a  Club  Corner  177 

in  the  dark  by  a  person  who  glides  under 
the  cow,  covered  with  a  buffalo  skin.  Car- 
lyle,  in  his  Cromwell,  asks,  "Did  the 
reader  ever  see,  or  fancy  in  his  mind,  a 
tulchan  ?  Tulchan  is,  or  rather  was,  for 
the  thing  is  long  since  obsolete,  a  calfskin 
stuffed  into  the  rude  similitude  of  a  calf, 
—  similar  enough  to  deceive  the  imperfect 
perceptive  organs  of  a  cow.  At  milking- 
time  the  tulchan,  with  head  duly  bent, 
was  set  as  if  to  suck  ;  the  fond  cow  look- 
ing round  fancied  that  her  calf  was  busy, 
and  that  all  was  right,  and  so  gave  her 
milk  freely,  which  the  cunning  maid  was 
straining  in  white  abundance  into  her  pail 
all  the  while."  Deceiving  through  the 
affections  has  ever  been  in  practice,  and 
ever  will  be.  Could  the  world  speak  as  to 
effects  of  it,  what  lamentations  we  should 
hear. 


There  is  a  pretty  legend  of  Jesus  and  A  PRETT 
two  or  three  of  his  disciples  going  down, 
one  summer  day,  from  Jerusalem  to  Jeri- 
cho. Peter  —  the  ardent  and  eager  Peter 
—  was  as  usual  by  the  Teacher's  side.  On 
the  road  on  Olivet  lay  a  horseshoe,  which 
the  Teacher  desired  Peter  to  pick  up,  but 
which  Peter  let  lie,  as  he  did  not  think  it 


ij8  In  a  Club  Corner 

worth  the  trouble  of  stooping  for.  The 
Teacher  stooped  for  it,  and  exchanged  it 
in  the  village  for  a  measure  of  cherries. 
These  cherries  he  carried  (as  men  there 
now  carry  such  things)  in  the  bosom  folds  of 
his  dress.  When  they  had  to  ascend  the 
ridge,  and  the  road  lay  between  heated 
rocks,  and  over  rugged  stones  and  glaring 
white  dust,  Peter  became  tormented  with 
heat  and  thirst,  and  fell  behind.  Then  the 
Teacher  dropped  a  ripe  cherry  at  every 
few  footsteps ;  and  Peter  eagerly  stooped 
for  them.  When  they  were  all  gone,  Jesus 
turned  to  him,  and  said  with  a  smile,  "  He 
who  is  above  stooping  to  a  small  thing, 
will  have  to  bend  his  back  to  many  lesser 
things." 

SELECTING        It   has   been   observed   that    "the   bad 

MEMORIES.  .  f  ,        ,  , 

memories  are  often  the  best,  as  they  are 
almost  sure  to  be  the  selecting  memories. 
They  seldom  win  distinction  in  examina- 
tions, except  in  literature  and  art.  They 
are  incomparably  superior  to  the  miscella- 
neous memories  that  receive  only  as  boxes 
and  drawers  receive  what  is  put  into  them. 
A  good  literary  or  artistic  memory  is  not 
like  a  post-office  that  takes  in  everything, 
but  like  a  very  well  edited  periodical  which 


In  a  Club  Corner  179 

prints  nothing  that  does  not  harmonize 
with  its  intellectual  life."  Scott  used  to  scote*  m* 
illustrate  the  capricious  affinity  of  his  own 
memory  for  what  suited  it,  and  its  com- 
plete rejection  of  what  did  not,  by  old 
Beattie  of  Meikledale's  answer  to  a  Scotch 
divine  who  complimented  him  on  the 
strength  of  his  memory.  "  No,  sir,"  said 
the  old  Borderer ;  "  I  have  no  command 
of  my  memory.  It  only  retains  what 
hits  my  fancy ;  and,  probably,  sir,  if  you 
were  to  preach  to  me  for  two  hours,  I 
would  not  be  able,  when  you  finished,  to 
remember  a  word  you  had  been  saying." 
Henry  Clay  told  Mrs.  Mowatt,  the  actress, 
that  he  could  not  by  any  effort  retain  verse 
in  his  memory.  Locke  had  no  correct 
knowledge  of  fiction ;  and  as  to  poetry  he 
thought  Blackmore  as  great  a  genius  as 
Homer.  Newton  considered  poetry  as  on  Newton1* 

,,        .  estimate  of 

a  par  with  "ingenious  nonsense  ;  but  poetry. 
when  the  name  of  the  Deity  was  men- 
tioned, he  took  off  his  hat.  "  Buffon,"  said 
Madame  de  Stae'l,  "  knows  not  the  world, 
but  he  knows  the  universe."  Sydney 
Smith  advised  ignorance  of  a  great  number 
of  things,  in  order  to  avoid  the  calamity  of 
being  ignorant  of  everything.  "  I  remem- 
ber," said  Mr.  Hookam  Frere,  "one  day 


180  In  a  Club  Corner 

going  to  consult  Canning  on  a  matter  of 
great  importance  to  me,  when  he  was  stop- 
ping at  Enfield.  We  walked  into  the 
woods  to  have  a  quiet  talk,  and  as  we 
passed  some  ponds  I  was  surprised  to  find 
Canning's  that  it  was  a  new  light  to  him  that  tadpoles 
"£<«*•  turned  into  frogs.  'Now,  don't  you,'  he 
added,  '  go  and  tell  that  story  to  the  next 
fool  you  meet.'  Canning  could  rule,  and 
did  rule,  a  great  and  civilized  nation,  but 
people  are  apt  to  fancy  that  a  man  who 
does  not  know  the  natural  history  of  frogs 
must  be  an  imbecile  in  the  treatment  of 
men."  Memory,  to  be  of  great  value,  it 
would  appear,  must  be  limited,  ready,  and 
at  absolute  command.  A  really  valuable 
memory  is  impatient  of  diversion  from  ac- 
customed employment,  and  when  diverted, 
returns  to  it,  naturally,  and  in  the  shortest 
Coleridge  manner.  Leslie  once  found  Coleridge 
k7mseif.  driving  the  balls  on  a  bagatelle  board,  for 
a  kitten  to  run  after  them.  He  noticed 
that  as  soon  as  the  little  thing  turned  its 
back  to  the  balls  it  seemed  to  forget  all 
about  them,  and  played  with  its  tail  —  its 
favorite  occupation.  "  I  am  amused,"  he 
said,  "  with  the  limits  of  their  little  mem- 
ories." There  is  a  terrible  story  in  illus- 
tration of  a  confused  memory,  of  a  man 


In  a  Club  Corner  181 

who  made  an  abstruse  conundrum  and  for- 
got the  answer.  After  groping  about  his 
uncertain  mind  for  several  days,  he  gave 
it  up  in  despair  and  cut  his  throat.  De 
Quincey,  though  nothing  of  a  Skimpole,  in 
pecuniary  matters,  was,  we  are  told,  help- 
less beyond  the  traditional  helplessness  of 
literary  characters  —  beyond  even  Gold- 
smith and  Steele.  Burton  tells  of  his 
knocking  a  friend  up  late  at  night  to  raise 
a  loan  of  a  few  shillings,  offering  to  de- 
posit as  security  a  ten  pound  note  which 
he  had  in  his  pocket,  and  which  seems  to 
have  occurred  to  him  rather  as  a  negoti- 
able instrument  of  some  kind  than  as  cur- 
rent money  of  the  realm.  This  in  spite  of 
the  fact  that  he  wrote  a  work  on  political 
economy  which  Mill  mentions  with  respect. 
There  is  an  amusing  story  told  of  Lord  Lord  Cam 
Camden,  when  a  barrister,  having  been  stocks. 
fastened  in  stocks  on  top  of  a  hill  in  order 
to  gratify  an  idle  curiosity  on  the  subject. 
Being  left  there  by  the  absent-minded 
friend  who  had  locked  him  in,  he  found  it 
impossible  to  procure  his  liberation  for  the 
greater  part  of  the  day.  On  his  entreating 
a  chance  traveler  to  release  him,  the  man 
shook  his  head  and  passed  on,  remarking 
that  of  course  he  was  not  there  for  noth- 


i82  In  a  Club  Corner 

ing.     There  is  a  very  curious  incident  of 
Beaumont     Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  who  were  brought 

andFletcher.  .  .    .  ,  .  °. 

under  suspicion  of  treason,  because,  while 
concerting  the  plan  of  a  tragedy  when  sit- 
ting together  at  a  tavern,  one  of  them  was 
overheard  saying  to  the  other,  "  I  '11  kill  the 

Peter  Bur-  king  !  "  It  is  recorded  of  Peter  Burrowes, 
the  friend  of  Grattan,  that,  on  circuit,  a 
brother  barrister  found  him  at  breakfast- 
time  standing  by  the  fire  with  an  egg  in 
his  hand  and  his  watch  in  the  saucepan. 

La  Fan,  La  Fontaine,  having  attended  the  funeral 
of  a  friend,  was  so  absent-minded  as  to 
call  upon  him  a  short  time  afterward.  Be- 
ing reminded  of  the  fact,  he  was  at  first 
greatly  surprised,  but  recollecting  himself, 
said  :  "It  is  true  enough,  for  I  was  there." 

Coleridge.  When  Coleridge,  it  is  related,  was  a  poor 
boy,  and  a  charity  scholar  in  London,  he 
was  one  day  walking  along  the  Strand  at 
an  hour  when  the  place  was  crowded, 
and  was  throwing  out  his  arms  vigorously 
toward  the  right  and  the  left.  One  of  his 
hands  came  into  contact  with  a  gentle- 
man's waistcoat  pocket,  and  the  man  im- 
mediately accused  the  boy  of  thieving  in- 
tentions. "No,"  said  Coleridge,  "I  am  not 

swimming   intending  to  pick  your  pocket.     I  am  swim- 

tont. e '      ming   the   Hellespont.     This   morning   in 


In  a  dub  Corner  183 

school  I  read  the  story  of  Hero  and  Le- 
ander,  and  I  am  now  imitating  the  latter 
as  he  swims  from  Asia  to  Europe."  The 
gentleman  was  so  much  impressed  by  the 
vividness  of  the  imagination  of  the  lad  that 
he  subscribed  for  Coleridge's  admission  to 
a  public  library,  which  began  the  poet's  edu- 
cation. It  is  very  true,  as  said  by  a  writer  in 
an  old  number  of  the  London  Quarterly, 
that  an  interest  attaches  with  every  person 
of  education  to  the  name  of  Simson,  from  si. 
his  admirable  edition  of  the  Elements  of 
Euclid,  a  work  which  cost  him  nine  years 
of  labor.  His  long,  tranquil,  and  amiable 
life  appears  to  have  been  governed  by  the 
rigid  rules  of  mathematics,  which  was  the 
business  and  solace  of  his  existence.  He 
regulated  his  exercise  by  the  number  of 
paces,  and  after  exchanging  greetings  with 
any  acquaintance  whom  he  met  in  his 
walks,  he  might  be  heard  continuing  the 
enumeration  as  he  moved  away.  His  ab- 
sence of  mind  would  have  kept  Ampere 
in  countenance,  and  satisfied  the  skeptics 
of  the  reality  of  the  propensity,  though  he 
differed  from  the  Frenchman  in  being  par- 
ticularly methodical  in  his  transaction  of  Methodical 
business.  He  was  noted  for  his  absent-  ** 
mindedness.  He  used  to  sit  at  his  open 


184  In  a  Club  Corner 

window  on  the  ground  floor,  deep  in  ge- 
ometry, and  when  accosted  by  a  beggar 
would  rouse  himself,  hear  a  few  words  of 
the  story,  make  his  donation,  and  dive 
again  into  his  geometry.  Some  wags  one 
day  stopped  a  mendicant  on  his  way  to  the 
window  with  —  "  Now,  do  as  we  tell  you, 
and  you  will  get  something  from  that  gen- 
tleman, and  a  shilling  from  us  besides.  He 
will  ask  who  you  are,  and  you  will  say, 
Robert  Simson,  son  of  John  Simson  of 
Kirktonhill."  The  man  did  as  he  was 
told  ;  Simson  gave  him  a  coin  and  dropped 
off;  but  soon  roused  himself  and  said: 
"  Robert  Simson,  son  of  John  Simson  of 
Kirktonhill !  why,  that  is  myself !  That 
'man  must  be  an  impostor  ! "  The  anec- 
dotes which  Lord  Brougham  has  recovered 
Adam  of  Adam  Smith  show  that  he  too  was  liable 

SmM. 

to  fits  of  abstraction  which  rendered  him 
insensible  to  everything  around  him.  At 
a  dinner  at  Dalkeith  he  was  animadverting 
upon  the  character  of  a  statesman  of  the 
day,  when  observing  his  nearest  relative 
at  the  table,  he  suddenly  stopped.  He 
speedily  passed  from  open  conversation 
into  a  fit  of  musing,  and  was  heard  mutter- 
ing to  himself,  "  De'il  care,  de'il  care,  it 's 
all  true."  In  walking  through  the  streets 


In  a  Club  Corner  185 

of  Edinburgh,  his  hands  behind  him  and 
his  head  in  the  air,  he  knocked  against 
the  passengers,  and  on  one  occasion  over- 
turned a  stall,  without  the  slightest  con- 
sciousness of  what  he  had  done.  "  Heigh, 
sirs,"  said  a  female  worthy  in  the  Fish- 
market,  who  took  him  for  an  absolute  luna- 
tic, "  to  let  the  like  of  him  be  about !  And 
yet  he's  weel  eneugh  put  on"  (dressed). 
Ampere's  solitary  musings  for  many  years 
of  his  life,  we  are  told,  had  made  abstrac-  mutmgt. 
tion  habitual  to  him,  and  he  naturally  fell 
into  it  without  regard  to  time  or  place. 
Hence  he  was  extremely  absent,  and  was 
guilty  of  a  thousand  unconscious  eccentri- 
cities. He  mistook  the  cloth  for  cleaning 
the  blackboard,  and  which  was  always  cov- 
ered with  chalk,  for  his  pocket  handker- 
chief. He  carried  away  from  a  party  the 
three-cornered  chapeau  of  an  ecclesiastic, 
and  as  the  owner  was  a  desirable  acquaint- 
ance, it  was  asserted  by  the  enemies  of 
the  philosopher  that  he  designedly  took 
the  wrong  hat  (his  own  was  a  common 
round  one)  that  he  might  have  an  excuse 
for  calling  next  day  to  return  it.  Arago 
repudiates  the  paltry  construction,  and  ' 
meets  the  imputation  with  a  counter  anec- 
dote, in  which  Ampere's  infirmity  was  not 


186 


In  a  Club  Corner 


ley  one  of 
the  absent 
men. 


calculated  to  recommend  him.  Invited  to 
the  table  of  a  person  whom  it  was  of  im- 
portance to  conciliate,  he  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, "  Really  this  dinner  is  detestable. 
My  sister  ought  not  to  engage  cooks  with- 
out having  personally  satisfied  herself  of 
Lord  Dud-  their  capabilities."  "  Lord  Dudley,"  said 
Sydney  Smith,  "  was  one  of  the  most  ab- 
sent men  I  think  I  ever  met  in  society. 
One  day  he  met  me  in  the  street,  and  in- 
vited me  to  meet  myself.  '  Dine  with  me 
to-day ;  dine  with  me,  and  I  will  get  Syd- 
ney Smith  to  meet  you.'  I  admitted  the 
temptation  he  held  out  to  me,  but  said 
I  was  engaged  to  meet  him  elsewhere." 
Lessing,  the  German  philosopher,  being 
remarkably  absent,  knocked  at  his  own 
door  one  evening,  when  the  servant,  look- 
ing out  of  an  upper  window  and  not  recog- 
nizing him,  said,  "  The  professor  is  not  at 
home."  "Oh,  very  well,"  replied  Lessing, 
composedly  walking  away  ;  "  I  shall  call 
another  time."  Dr.  Campbell,  the  auth<5r 
of  The  Survey  of  Great  Britain,  was  so  ab- 
sent-minded that,  looking  into  a  pamphlet 
at  a  bookseller's,  he  liked  it  so  well  that 
he  purchased  it,  and  it  was  not  until  he 
had  read  it  half  through  that  he  discov- 
ered it  to  be  his  own  composition.  On  a 


Lessing. 


Dr.  Camp- 
bell. 


In  a  Club  Corner  187 

trial  for  murder,  it  was  important  to  the 
prisoner  that  the  bullet  found  in  the  wound 
should  be  produced.  It  was  handed  to 
Burro wes,  who  was  occasionally  taking  a 
lozenge  for  hoarseness.  In  the  middle  of 
his  speech  he  paused,  and  suddenly  ex- 
claimed, "  Oh  Lord,  I  have  swallowed  the  swallowed 

the  bullet 

bullet ! "  Plunket  said  of  him  :  "  He  has 
spent  his  life  in  doing  acts  of  kindness  to 
every  human  being  but  himself.  He  has 
been  prodigal  of  his  time,  of  his  trouble,  of 
his  talents,  of  his  money,  to  every  human 
being  who  had  or  had  not  a  claim,  and  this 
to  the  serious  neglect  of  his  own  interests. 
In  short,  I  can  only  account  for  such  an 
anomaly  as  this,  by  supposing  him  utterly 
destitute  of  the  instinct  of  selfishness." 
Barry  Cornwall  relates  that  George  Dyer  George 
invited  some  one  —  he  thinks  it  was 
Llanos,  the  author  of  Esteban  and  Sando- 
val  —  to  breakfast  with  him  one  day  in 
Clifford's  Inn.  Dyer  of  course  forgot  all 
about  the  matter  very  speedily  after  giving 
the  invitation ;  and  when  Llanos  went  at 
the  appointed  hour,  he  found  nothing  but 
little  Dyer,  and  his  books  and  his  dust  — 
the  work  of  years  —  at  home.  George, 
however,  was  anything  but  inhospitable, 
as  far  as  his  means  or  ideas  went ;  and  on 


i88  In  a  Club  Corner 

being  told  that  Llanos  had  come  to  break- 
fast, proceeded  to  investigate  his  cup- 
board. He  found  the  remnant  of  a  three- 
penny loaf,  two  cups  and  saucers,  a  little 
glazed  teapot,  and  a  spoonful  of  milk. 
They  sat  down,  and  (Dyer  putting  the  hot 

A^eak-  water  into  the  teapot)  commenced  break- 
fast. Llanos  attacked  the  stale  crust,  and 
waited  with  much  good  humor  and  pa- 
tience for  his  tea.  At  last,  out  it  came. 
Dyer,  who  was  half  blind,  kept  pouring 
out  —  nothing  but  hot  water  from  the  tea- 
pot, until  Llanos,  who  thought  a  man  might 
be  guilty  of  too  much  abstinence,  inquired 

Forgot  the  if  D.  had  not  forgot  the  tea.  "God 
bless  me !"  replied  D.,  "and  so  I  have." 
He  began  immediately  to  remedy  his  error, 
and  emptied  the  contents  of  a  piece  of 
brown  paper  into  the  teapot,  deluged  it 
with  water,  and  sat  down  with  a  look  of 
complete  satisfaction.  "  How  very  odd  it 
was  that  I  should  make  such  a  mistake !  " 
said  Dyer.  However,  he  now  determined 
to  make  amends,  and  filled  Llanos'  cup 
again.  Llanos  thought  the  tea  had  a 
strange  odor,  but  not  having  dread  of  aqua 
tofana  before  his  eyes,  he  thrust  his  spoon 

ft  was  fin-  in  and  tasted.  It  was  ginger !  Seeing 
that  it  was  in  vain  to  expect  common- 


In  a  Club  Corner  189 

places  from  the  little  absentee,  Llanos  con- 
tinued cutting  and  crumbling  a  little  bread 
into  his  plate  for  a  short  time  and  then  de- 
parted. He  went  straight  to  a  coffee-house 
in  the  neighborhood,  and  was  just  finish-  Finishing  at 
ing  a  capital  breakfast  when  Dyer  came  in,  louse" 
to  read  the  paper,  or  to  inquire  after  some 
one  who  frequented  the  coffee-house.  He 
recognized  Llanos,  and  asked  how  he  did ; 
but  felt  no  surprise  at  seeing  him  devour- 
ing a  second  breakfast.  He  had  totally 
forgotten  all  the  occurrences  of  the  morn- 
ing. Crabb  Robinson  wrote  in  his  Diary  : 
"  After  going  to  University  College  Com- 
mittee, I  went  to  J.  Taylor's  to  exchange 
hats,  having  taken  his  last  night ;  but  he 
had  not  mine  there.  I  took  an  omnibus  to 
Addison  Road,  drank  tea  with  Paynter, 
and  then  went  to  Taylor's  to  restore  his 
hat ;  and  then  I  found  that  I  had  a  second 
time  blundered  by  bringing  Paynter's  old 
hat ;  and  I  lost  an  hour  in  going  to  and 
from  Addison  Road,  and  from  and  to 
Sheffield  House.  Is  this  infirmity  incur- 
able  ?  I  fear  it  is  ;  though  I  record  it 
here  to  assist  me  in  becoming  more  on 
my  guard.  It  is  a  wise  saying  of  Horace 
Walpole's,  '  There  is  no  use  in  warning  a 
man  of  his  folly,  if  you  do  not  cure  him  of 


190 


In  a  Club  Corner 


Emerson's 
forgetful- 


GarricK's 
third  mas- 
ter. 


being  foolish.'  "  One  of  Emerson's  friends 
relates  a  little  incident  of  his  late  years, 
illustrating  his  forgetfulness  and  simplicity. 
His  daughter  used  to  collect  and  keep  the 
leaves  of  his  lecture  manuscripts,  putting 
them  in  his  hands  before  he  began,  and 
taking  care  of  them  when  he  had  done. 
On  one  occasion  he  was  lecturing  in  Bos- 
ton, when  suddenly,  in  the  midst  of  an  in- 
teresting branch  of  his  theme,  he  sat  down. 
Supposing  he  did  so  to  rest,  the  people 
waited  :  but  soon  they  saw  he  had  no  more 
to  say,  and  withdrew.  Afterward  some  one 
said  to  him,  that  he  had  closed  rather  ab- 
ruptly. "  It  seemed  so  to  me,"  he  replied, 
"  but  that  was  all  that  Ellen  gave  me  ! " 
Garrick's  third  master,  according  to  Fitz- 
gerald, was  a  Mr.  Colson,  a  clergyman,  and 
a  dreamy  scholar,  very  absent,  and  almost 
totally  indifferent  to  his  family  concerns, 
from  delight  in  his  scientific  studies.  This 
philosopher  lived  entirely  in  an  upper 
room  of  his  house,  where  none  of  his 
family  dared  intrude.  When  he  came  down, 
he  seemed  to  be  walking  about  like  a  total 
stranger.  Not  without  humor,  and  most 
probably  founded  in  truth,  is  the  descrip- 
tion of  two  instances  of  utter  indifference 
to  the  mere  social  events  of  the  world  that 


In  a  Club  Corner  191 

were  unconnected  with  science.  He  re- 
ceives a  letter,  and  having  given  it  to  his 
servant  to  read,  it  was  found  to  bring  news 
of  his  brother's  shipwreck,  and  of  his  being  Newt  of  his 
left  naked  and  destitute  in  a  foreign  coun-  $$%£?*. 
try.  "Naked  and  destitute!"  exclaimed 
he  abstractedly  ;  "  reach  me  down  the  last 
volume  of  meteorological  observations ! " 
When  they  came  to  tell  him  of  a  fire  that 
was  advancing  so  rapidly  on  all  sides  that 
the  inhabitants  were  only  thinking  of  their 
lives,  he  said  with  interest,  "What  you 
tell  me  is  very  probable,  for  fire  naturally 
moves  in  a  circle."  Such  a  character,  it  is 
remarked,  would  have  been  a  subject  for 
the  gay  mimicry  of  his  pupil,  who  may 
have  described  it  to  his  friend  Dr.  John- 
son :  it  certainly  answers  to  the  delineation 
(Gelidus)  in  the  Rambler,  No.  24.  The  ceiidm,  in 
distinguished  Lessing,  before  referred  to —  6fa?am 
sometimes  called  the  Luther  of  German 
Literature  —  having  missed  money  at  dif- 
ferent times  without  being  able  to  discover 
who  took  it,  determined  to  put  the  hon- 
esty of  his  servant  to  the  test,  and  left  a 
handful  of  gold  on  the  table.  "  Of  course 
you  counted  it,"  said  one  of  his  friends. 
"  Counted  it ! "  said  Lessing,  rather  em- 
barrassed, —  "  no  ;  I  forgot  that."  A  story 


1 92  In  a  Club  Corner 

is  told  of  Chief  Justice  Marshall,  that,  on 

.  r  x  T  _  . . 

returning  once  from  North  Carolina,  in- 
tent on  some  knotty  point  of  law,  he  found 
himself  suddenly  brought  to  a  halt  by  a 
small  tree.  Seeing  a  servant  near  by,  he 
asked  him  to  bring  an  axe  and  cut  down 
the  tree.  The  servant  told  the  judge  that 
there  was  no  necessity  for  cutting  down 
the  sapling,  but  just  to  back  his  buggy. 
Pleased  at  the  good  sense  of  the  fellow,  he 
told  him  that  he  would  leave  him  some- 
thing at  the  inn  hard  by,  where  he  intended 
stopping,  having  then  no  small  change.  In 
due  time  the  servant  applied,  and  a  dollar 
was  handed  him.  Being  asked  if  he  knew 
who  it  was  that  gave  him  the  money,  he 
replied,  "  No,  sir  ;  I  knew  he  was  a  gentle- 
man by  his  leaving  the  dollar,  but  I  think 
he  is  the  biggest  fool  I  ever  saw." 

"  When  I  arrived  at  Buckingham  House," 
says  Mrs.  Siddons,  in  her  autobiograph- 
ical Memoranda,  "  I  was  conducted  into  an 
antechamber,  where  I  found  some  ladies 
of  my  acquaintance ;  and,  in  a  short  time, 
the  king  entered  from  the  drawing-room, 
in  the  amiable  occupation  of  drawing  the 
princess  Amelia,  then  scarce  three  years 
old,  in  a  little  cane-chair.  He  graciously 


In  a  Club  Corner  /pj 

said  something  to  one  of  the  ladies,  and 
left  the  lovely  baby  to  run  about  the  room. 
She  happened  to  be  much  pleased  with 
some  flowers  in  my  bosom,  and,  as  I  stooped 
down  that  she  might  take  them,  if  so  dis- 
posed, I  could  not  help  exclaiming  to  a 
lady  near  me,  '  What  a  beautiful  child  !  — 
how  I  long  to  kiss  her ! '  when  she  in- 
stantly held  her  little  hand  to  my  mouth  to 
be  kissed :  so  early  had  she  learned  this 
lesson  of  royalty."  The  easy  way  of  Arch- 
bishop  Whately  has  been  described  :  "  He  Whattly' 
was  of  a  gigantic  size  and  a  gaunt  as- 
pect, with  a  strange  unconsciousness  of 
the  body;  and  what  is  perhaps  the  next 
best  thing  to  manner,  he  had  no  manner. 
What  his  legs  and  arms  were  about  was 
best  known  to  themselves.  His  rank 
placed  him  by  the  side  of  the  lord  lieu- 
tenant's wife  when  dining  at  the  castle,  and 
the  wife  of  one  of  the  lord  lieutenants  has 
said  that  she  had  occasionally  to  remove 
the  archbishop's  foot  out  of  her  lap." 
There  is  the  terrible  gift  of  familiarity,  as  The 
Pope  Gregory  called  it,  which  the  Marquis 
of  Mirabeau  applied  to  his  son  the  Count. 
"  He  turns  the  great  people  here  round  his 
finger."  Says  Carlyle  :  "  He  has  opened 
his  far-sounding  voice,  the  depths  of  his 


1 94  In  a  Club  Corner 

far-sounding  soul ;  he  can  quell  (such  virtue 
is  in  a  spoken  word)  the  pride-tumults  of 
the  rich,  the  hunger-tumults  of  the  poor ; 
and  wild  multitudes  move  under  him,  as 
under  the  moon  do  billows  of  the  sea ;  he 
has  become  a  world-corn peller,  and  ruler 

Prince  Bis-  over  men."  Prince  Bismarck,  when  he 
went  into  Paris  with  the  troops,  was  recog- 
nized by  the  people,  but  no  demonstration 
against  him  followed.  There  was  one  man, 
however,  who  scowled  at  him  in  a  very 
noticeable  manner.  The  prince  at  once 
rode  up  to  him  and  begged  a  light  for  his 
cigar,  and  the  ugly  scowl  instantly  dis- 

AH  incident  appeared.     At  the  beginning  of  the  Rev- 

0f  the  RettO-         i*  TTT  i  r      TT-  •        • 

lutionary  olutionary  War,  a  large  party  of  Virginia 
riflemen,  who  had  recently  arrived  in  camp, 
were  strolling  about  Cambridge,  and  view- 
ing the  collegiate  buildings,  now  turned 
into  barracks.  Their  half-Indian  equip- 
ments, and  fringed  and  ruffled  hunting 
garbs,  provoked  the  merriment  of  some 
troops  from  Marblehead,  chiefly  fishermen 
and  sailors,  who  thought  nothing  equal  to 
the  round  jacket  and  trowsers.  A  banter- 
ing ensued  between  them.  There  was 
snow  upon  the  ground,  and  snowballs  be- 
gan to  fly  when  jokes  were  wanting.  The 
parties  waxed  warm  with  the  contest.  They 


In  a  Club  Corner  195 

closed,  and  came  to  blows  ;  both  sides  were 
reinforced,  and  in  a  little  while  at  least  a 
thousand  were  at  fisticuffs,  and  there  was 
a  tumult  in  the  camp  worthy  of  the  days 
of  Homer.  "At  this  juncture,"  wrote  an  Washingto 

made  his 

informant,  "  Washington  made  his  appear-  appearance 
ance,  whether  by  accident  or  design,  I 
never  knew.  I  saw  none  of  his  aides  with 
him;  his  black  servant  was  just  behind 
him  mounted.  He  threw  the  bridle  of  his 
horse  into  his  servant's  hands,  sprang  from 
his  seat,  rushed  into  the  thickest  of  the 
melee,  seized  two  tall  brawny  riflemen  by 
the  throat,  keeping  them  at  arm's  length, 
talking  to  and  shaking  them.  His  appear- 
ance and  strong  -  handed  rebuke  put  an 
instant  end  to  the  tumult.  The  combatants 
dispersed  in  all  directions,  and  in  less  than 
three  minutes  more  there  remained  on  the 
ground  but  the  two  he  had  collared."  "Self- 
respect,"  in  the  judgment  of  Emerson,  "  is 
the  early  form  in  which  greatness  appears,  rheeariy 
You  say  of  some  new  person,  That  man  JI/vV" 

.,,  c  ,  ,   .  greatness 

will  go  far,  —  for  you  see  m  his  manners  appears. 
that  the  recognition  of  him  by  others  is 
not  necessary  to  him.  And  what  a  bitter- 
sweet sensation  when  we  have  gone  to  pour 
out  our  acknowledgment  of  a  man's  noble- 
ness, and  found  him  quite  indifferent  to 


196  In  a  Club  Corner 

our  good  opinion."  "Too  much,  I  have 
perceived,"  remarks  De  Quincey,  "  in  men 
Thedisfiosi.  that  pass  for  good  men,  a  disposition  to 
erode.  degrade  (and  if  possible  to  degrade  through 
self-degradation)  those  in  whom  unwillingly 
they  feel  any  weight  of  oppression  to  them- 
selves, by  commanding  qualities  of  intellect 
or  character.  They  respect  you  :  they  are 
compelled  to  do  so,  and  they  hate  to  do 
so."  They  lie  in  wait  to  humiliate  or  over- 
power you,  —  encouraged  by  occasional 
successful  instances  of  combined  weakness 
over  individual  strength,  as  in  the  famous 
triumph  of  the  Lilliputians  over  Gulliver. 
"  Do  you  think  to  distinguish  yourself  with 
impunity  ?"  said  Northcote  to  Hazlitt. 
"  Do  you  imagine  that  your  superiority  will 
be  delightful  to  others,  or  that  they  will  not 
strive  all  that  they  can,  and  to  the  last 
moment,  to  pull  you  down  ?  I  remember 
myself  once  saying  to  Opie,  how  hard  it 
was  upon  the  poor  author  or  player  to  be 
hunted  down  for  not  succeeding  in  an  in- 
nocent and  laudable  attempt,  just  as  if  they 
had  committed  some  heinous  crime ;  and 
he  answered,  'They  have  committed  the 
greatest  crime  in  the  eyes  of  mankind  — 
that  of  pretending  to  a  superiority  over 
them.'  " 


In  a  Club  Corner  197 

Artists  are  fond  of  painting  their  own  SELF-POR- 
portraits.  In  Florence  there  is  a  gallery 
of  hundreds  of  them,  including  the  most 
illustrious,  in  all  of  which  there  are,  as 
Hawthorne  remarks,  autobiographical  char- 
acteristics, so  to  speak  ;  traits,  expressions, 
loftinesses,  and  amenities,  which  would  have 
been  invisible  had  they  not  been  painted 
from  within.  Yet  their  reality  and  truth 
are  none  the  less.  There  is  no  more  re- 
markable bit  of  self-portraiture  than  that 
by  Saint  Evremond  :  "  He  is  a  philosopher  saint 
who  keeps  aloof  alike  from  superstition 
and  from  impiety  ;  an  epicurean,  whose 
distaste  for  debauchery  is  as  strong  as  his 
appetite  for  pleasure  ;  a  man  who  has  never 
known  want,  but  at  the  same  time  has 
never  enjoyed  affluence.  He  lives  in  a 
manner  which  is  despised  by  those  who 
have  everything,  envied  by  those  who  have 
nothing,  appreciated  by  those  who  make 
their  happiness  and  their  reason  agree.  In  Happiness 
his  youth  he  hated  waste,  being  persuaded  "* 
that  property  was  necessary  to  make  a 
long  life  comfortable.  In  his  age  he  cares 
not  for  economy,  feeling  that  want  is  little 
to  be  feared  when  one  has  but  a  little  time 
to  want  in.  He  is  grateful  for  the  gifts 
of  nature,  and  finds  no  fault  with  those  of 


/9#  In  a  Club  Corner 

fortune  ;  he  hates  crime,  endures  error, 
and  pities  misfortune.  He  does  not  try  to 
find  out  the  bad  points  of  men  in  order  to 
decry  them,  but  he  looks  for  their  foibles 
in  order  to  give  himself  amusement ;  is 
secretly  rejoiced  at  the  knowledge  of  these 
foibles,  and  would  be  still  more  pleased  to 
make  them  known  to  others,  did  not  his 
Life  too  discretion  forbid.  Life  is  to  his  mind  too 

short  to  read. 

"fi^of  short  to  read  all  sorts  of  books,  and  to  load 
one's  memory  with  all  sorts  of  things  at 
the  risk  of  one's  judgment.  He  devotes 
himself  not  to  the  most  learned  writings, 
so  as  to  acquire  knowledge,  but  to  the  most 
sensible,  so  as  to  strengthen  his  under- 
standing. At  one  time  he  seeks  the  most 
elegant  to  refine  his  taste,  at  another  the 
most  amusing  to  refresh  his  spirits.  As 
for  friendship,  he  has  more  constancy  than 
might  be  expected  from  a  philosopher,  and 
more  heartiness  than  could  be  looked  for 
even  in  a  younger  and  less  experienced 
man.  As  for  religion,  he  thinks  justice, 
charity,  and  trust  in  the  goodness  of  God 
of  more  importance  than  sorrow  for  past 
offenses." 

THE  PHI-        Douglas  Jerrold  expresses   the  opinion 

LOSOPHKR'S     ,,      ,     .,  ,  .-,  ,        ,  .  < 

STONB.        that  the  true  philosopher  s  stone  is  only 


In  a  Club  Corner  199 

intense  impudence.  Perhaps,  —  we  should 
say,  —  but  with  a  generous  tempering  of 
self-possession  and  readiness.  So  qualified 
and  fortified,  to  the  common  eye,  it  has 
the  look  of  omnipotence.  At  the  point  of 
sublimity  it  dazzles,  and  is  superhuman  to  omnifotence 
the  multitude.  Only  intelligence  can  pen- 
etrate it,  and  know  its  true  character.  One 
night  at  the  theatre  of  San  Carlo,  Naples, 
Dumas  the  elder  found  himself  chatting 
familiarly  with  a  stranger  who,  when  the 
play  was  over,  said  to  him  patronizingly : 
"  I  have  greatly  enjoyed  your  conversation, 
sir,  and  hope  to  see  more  of  you.  If  ever 
you  visit  Paris  call  on  me,  I  am  Alexandre 
Dumas."  "The  devil  you  are!  So  am 
I ! "  replied  the  novelist,  with  a  burst  of 
laughter.  Such  impudent  audacity,  with  a 
due  admixture  of  self-possession  and  facil- 
ity, seldom  fails  of  its  purpose.  "  Behold 
me  now,"  says  Rousseau,  in  his  Confessions,  Rousseau. 
"  a  teacher  of  singing,  without  knowing 
how  to  decipher  an  air.  Without  the  least 
knowledge  of  composition,  I  boasted  of  my 
skill  in  it  before  all  the  world ;  and  with- 
out ability  to  score  the  slenderest  vaude- 
ville, I  gave  myself  out  for  a  composer. 
Having  been  presented  to  M.  de  Trey- 
torens,  a  professor  of  law,  who  loved  music 


2OO  In  a  Club  Corner 

and  gave  concerts  at  his  house,  I  insisted 
on  giving  him  a  specimen  of  my  talent,  and 
I  set  to  work  to  compose  a  piece  for  his 
concert  with  as  much  effrontery  as  if  I 
knew  all  about  it."  The  performance  came 
off  duly,  and  the  strange  impostor  con- 
ducted it  with  as  much  gravity  as  the 
profoundest  master.  Never  since  the  be- 
ginning of  opera  had  the  like  charivari 

John  LOW.  greeted  the  ears  of  men.  A  friend  of  John 
Law  asked  him  one  day,  whether  it  was  true 
that  he  was  going  to  war  with  England. 
"I  should  think,"  added  he,  "that  a  min- 
ister like  yourself,  whose  interest  it  is  to 
make  the  State  flourish  by  commerce,  and 
by  establishments  that  require  peace,  would 
never  think  of  going  to  war."  Law  replied, 
with  the  utmost  calmness,  "  I  do  not  desire 

Frederic  the  war,  but  am  not  afraid  of  it."  Frederic 
the  Great  once  saw  a  crowd  staring  at 
something  on  a  wall.  He  rode  up,  and 
found  that  the  object  of  curiosity  was  a 
scurrilous  placard  against  himself.  The 
placard  had  been  posted  up  so  high  that  it 
was  not  easy  to  read  it.  Frederic  ordered 
his  attendants  to  take  it  down  and  put  it 
lower.  "  My  people  and  I,"  he  said,  "  have 
come  to  an  agreement  which  satisfies  us 
both.  They  are  to  say  what  they  please, 


In  a  Club  Corner  201 

and  I  am  to  do  what  I  please."  At  the 
time  of  the  Gordon  riots,  in  June,  1780, 
Grimaldi  resided  in  a  front  room  on  the 
second  floor  in  Holborn,  on  the  same  side 
of  the  way  near  to  Red  Lion  Square,  when 
the  mob  passing  by  the  house,  and  Gri- 
maldi being  a  foreigner,  they  thought  he 
must  be  a  Papist.  On  hearing  he  lived 
there,  they  all  stopped,  and  there  was  a 
general  shouting ;  a  cry  of  "  No  Popery " 
was  raised,  and  they  were  about  to  assail 
the  house,  when  Grimaldi  put  his  head  out 
of  the  window  from  the  second  floor,  and, 
making  comical  grimaces,  called  out,  "  Gen- 
tlemen, in  dis  house  dare  be  no  religion 
at  all."  Laughing  at  their  mistake,  the 
mob  proceeded  on,  first  giving  him  three 
huzzas,  though  his  house,  unlike  all  the 
others,  had  not  written  on  the  door,  "  No 
Popery."  A  marauder,  arrested  for  a  high-  A 
way  robbery,  on  being  brought  before  z 
magistrate,  asserted  that  he  was  more 
entitled  to  be  pitied  than  to  be  punished. 
"  Pitied  !  "  exclaimed  the  justice,  whilst  his 
eyebrows  arched  with  more  than  ordinary 
wonder  and  contempt;  "and  on  what  ac- 
count, pray  ? "  "  Sure  on  account  of  my 
misfortune."  "  Your  misfortune,  indeed ! 
What,  that  we  have  caught  you,  I  sup- 


202  In  a  Club  Corner 

pose  ? "  "  Oh,  the  jintleman  that 's  brought 
The  cui.  me  here  knows  my  misfortune  well  enough." 
fortune.  But  the  gentleman  was  as  astonished  as 
the  magistrate  himself,  and  as  incapable  of 
guessing  the  culprit's  meaning.  "  You  will 
own,  I  suppose,"  said  his  worship,  "  that 
you  stopped  this  gentleman  on  the  high- 
way?" "Oh,  yes.  I  did  that  same."  "And 
that  you  took  from  him  fifty  pounds  in 
Bank  of  Wexford  bills?"  "And  there 
your  honor's  right  again."  "Well,  then, 
you  perplexing  vagabond,  what  do  you 
mean  by  your  misfortune  ? "  "  Sure,  I  mean 
that  the  money  was  n't  in  my  pocket  above 
a  week,  when  the  dirty  bank  stopped  pay- 
ment, and  I  was  robbed  of  every  shillin' ! " 

READING  Draper,  I  think,  somewhere  in  his  His- 
tory of  the  Intellectual  Development  of 
Europe,  observes,  that  if  there  are  dis- 
advantages in  the  method  of  acquiring 
knowledge  by  reading,  there  are  also  signal 
advantages ;  for,  though  upon  the  printed 
page  the  silent  letters  are  mute  and  un- 
sustained  by  any  scenic  help,  yet  often  — 
a  wonderful  contradiction  —  they  pour  forth 
emphatic  eloquence,  that  can  make  the 
heart  leap  with  emotion,  or  kindle  on  the 
cheek  the  blush  of  shame.  The  might  of 


In  a  Club  Corner  203 

persuasiveness  does  not  always  lie  in  ar- 
ticulate speech.      The  strong  are   of  the  The*tro»g 

.,  .-.      ,  i  ITT  are  of  the 

silent.  God  never  speaks.  We  are  as  «&«<. 
elastic,  says  Emerson,  as  the  gas  of  gun- 
powder, and  a  sentence  in  a  book  sets  free 
our  fancy,  and  instantly  our  heads  are 
bathed  with  galaxies,  and  our  feet  tread  the 
floor  of  the  Pit  Yet  on  the  other  hand 
there  are  readers  so  careless,  so  indifferent, 
so  insensate,  as  to  appear  to  be  proof 
against  emotion  —  to  say  nothing  of  in- 
tellectual exaltation.  Don  Abbondio,  the 
cowardly  priest  in  Manzoni's  story,  may  be 
cited  as  an  instance ;  he  was  very  fond  of 
reading  a  little  every  day ;  and  a  neighbor- 
ing curate,  who  possessed  something  of  a 
library,  lent  him  one  book  after  another, 
always  taking  the  first  that  came  to  hand. 
All  printed  matter  was  alike  to  him. 

Reading  aloud,  as  a  mere  physical  exer-  Reading 

f  .  n        „  aloud  as  a 

cise,  is  of  great  importance  and  efficacy,  physical tx- 
Cicero,  in  some  one  of  his  letters,  speaks 
of  curing  himself  of  troublesome  and  alarm- 
ing weakness  by  reading  aloud  for  some 
hours  every  day.  Certain  temperaments 
are  influenced  by  it  as  actors  are  affected 
by  their  own  playing.  It  is  said  of  Madame 
Pasta  that  she  would  come  home  from  the 
opera,  and  sit  in  a  passion  of  tears  at  the 


204  In  a  Club  Corner 

recollection  of  what  she  had  been  acting. 
It  was  entirely  unaffected.  She  would  say 
she  knew  it  to  be  idle,  but  that  she  "  could 
not  get  the  thing  out  of  her  head." 

Cross,  in  his  Life  of  George  Eliot,  ex- 
presses the  belief  that  reading  requires  for 
its  perfection  a  rare  union  of  intellectual, 
moral,  and  physical  qualities.  It  cannot 
be  imitated.  It  is  an  art,  like  singing  —  a 
personal  possession  that  dies  with  the  pos- 
sessor, and  leaves  nothing  behind  except 
a  memory.  Immediately  before  his  wife's 
George  Eu~  last  illness,  they  read  together  the  first  part 
^'  of  Faust.  Reading  the  poem  in  the  origi- 
nal with  such  an  interpreter  was  the  open- 
ing of  a  new  world  to  him.  Nothing  in  all 
literature  moved  her  more,  he  tells  us,  than 
the  pathetic  situation  and  the  whole  char- 
acter of  Gretchen.  It  touched  her  more 
than  anything  in  Shakespeare. 

In  one  of  Sir  Henry  Taylor's  published 
letters  he  speaks  of  reading  Shakespeare 
to  his  children,  and  adds  :  "  Reading  of 
Shakespeare  to  boys  and  girls  (if  it  be  well 
read,  and  if  they  be  apt),  I  regard  as  carry- 
ing with  it  a  deeper  cultivation  than  any- 
thing else  that  can  be  done  to  cultivate 
them  ;  and  I  often  think  how  strange  it  is 
that  amongst  all  the  efforts  which  are 


In  a  Club  Corner  205 

made  in  these  times  to  teach  young  people 
everything  that  is  to  be  known,  from  the 
cedar  of  Lebanon  to  the  hyssop  on  the 
wall,  the  one  thing  omitted  is  teaching 
them  to  read." 

In  the  book  of  Nehemiah  is  given,  in  a 
few  words,  the  true  standard  of  reading — 
how  Ezra,  the  learned  and  pious  priest, 
and  the  Levites,  read  to  the  people  the  law 
of  Moses :  "  They  read  in  the  book,  in  the 
law  of  God,  distinctly,  and  gave  the  sense, 
and  caused  the  people  to  understand  the 
reading."  They  "gave  the  sense,"  be  it 
observed,  and  the  people  understood  it. 
The  Persian  poet  Saadi  tells  that  a  person 
with  a  disagreeable  voice  was  reading  the 
Koran  aloud,  when  a  holy  man,  passing 
by,  asked  what  was  his  monthly  stipend. 
He  answered,  "Nothing  at  all."  "But 
why  then  do  you  take  so  much  trouble  ? " 
He  replied,  "  I  read  for  the  sake  of  God." 
The  other  rejoined,  "  For  God's  sake  do 
not  read  ;  for  if  you  read  the  Koran  in  this 
manner  you  will  destroy  the  splendor  of 

,    .          .        J,,  J  dorojlt- 

ISIamiSm.  lamism  in 

How  strange,  that  of  the  multitudes  of 
readers,  so  few  comparatively  should  be 
able  to  read  aloud  agreeably  and  intelli- 
gibly. Is  reading  aloud  such  a  difficult 


206  In  a  Club  Corner 

art?  or  is  all  the  world  indifferent  about 
acquiring  it  ?  It  cannot  be  that  of  the 
many  branches  of  education,  the  most  im- 
portant should  be  the  most  neglected.  A 
thing  so  preposterous  is  incredible.  There 
Causes  in-  must  be  causes  inscrutable  to  account  for 
a  fact  so  extraordinary.  Considering  the 
pleasure  to  others  derived  from  agreeable 
and  intelligible  oral  reading,  to  say  noth- 
ing of  its  economy,  one  would  think  that, 
of  all  things,  it  would  be  most  anxiously 
studied  and  most  diligently  practiced.  Can 
it  be  indeed  that  good  readers  are  born, 
and  not  made  ?  Can  it  be  that  the  infinite 
many  are  wanting  in  the  faculties  and 
qualities  necessary  to  attain  the  art  ? 
Thets***  Would  'some  one  could  tell  the  essential- 
rare"* '  ities  so  rare  !  The  best  vocal  readers,  we 
know,  are  not  always  the  best  intellects. 
Apparently,  they  only  possess  a  certain 
ken,  which  is  characteristic,  but  undefina- 
ble.  They  perceptibly  penetrate  the  words, 
perceive  the  sense,  and  participate  the  feel- 
ing, which  they  are  able  unconsciously  to 
interpret,  reveal,  and  enkindle  in  the  read- 
ing. If  you  undertake  to  analyze  the 
achievement  —  to  talk  of  manner,  voice, 
pronunciation,  intonation,  inflection,  or 
anything  incident  to  it  —  you  are  in  a 


In  a  Club  Corner  207 

labyrinth  without  a  clue.  There  is  not 
anything,  you  may  say,  which  is  more 
simple  and  at  the  same  time  more  inexpli- 
cable than  good  oral  reading.  The  author 
of  the  composition,  being  present  at  the 
reading  of  it  by  a  good  reader,  is  more  as- 
tonished than  any  other  hearer.  Beauty,  B*a*ty,  etc., 
or  strength,  or  feeling,  is  revealed  to  him  ^. 
he  had  not  dreamed  of.  An  apple  falls,  on 
its  way  to  the  centre  of  the  earth :  a  good 
reader  penetrates  intuitively  the  marrow 
of  the  printed  page,  and  plucks  its  sub- 
stance and  flavor.  A  name  is  given  by 
philosophy  to  the  former  —  gravitation  ; 
but  there  is  no  word  in  the  language  for 
the  latter.  An  excellence  so  superior  and 
so  exceptional  as  reading  aloud  agreeably, 
intelligibly,  and  impressively,  one  would 
think,  should  have  a  name  to  distinguish  it 
from  ordinary  reading,  as  oratory  is  dis- 
tinguished from  ordinary  speaking.  The 
rules  and  laws  and  machinery  of  what  is 
called  elocution  have  little  or  nothing  to 
do  with  good  reading  but  to  make  it  im- 
possible. I  once  went  in  upon  a  class  in 
elocution,  and  found  the  teacher  soberly  in- 
structing  his  pupils  by  the  use  of  the  black- 
board —  lines  being  drawn  thereon,  and 
notes  written  within,  as  in  music  —  the 


208  In  a  Club  Corner 

words  to  be  pitched  and  accented  and  in- 
toned accordingly  !  The  worst  effect  of 
all  the  bad  effects  of  professional  elocution 
seif^on.  is  to  create  and  foster  excessive  self-con- 
inimicai.  sciousness  —  a.  condition  wholly  inconsist- 
ent with  intelligent  and  satisfactory  read- 
ing, if  not  absolutely  inimical  to  it.  Go 
into  a  school-room,  filled  with  big  pupils. 
Say  to  the  teacher  interrogatively  that  you 
hope  he  has  some  good  readers,  and  he 
does  not  understand  you.  Go  into  the 
churches,  and  hear  how  the  Scriptures,  as 
a  rule,  are  read.  I  do  not  remember  to 
have  heard  the  Bible  perfectly  read  but 
once,  and  that  was  by  an  African  bishop, 
not  distinguished  for  his  erudition.  Even 
the  child  with  me  was  interested  in  the 
reading —  she  understood  it. 

"  In  company  with  a  friend  to  whom 
Garrick  had  promised  some  instructions  in 
the  character  of  Macbeth,  I  waited  on  him 
(says  Cooke)  at  his  house  in  the  Adelphi 
about  eleven  o'clock  on  a  Sunday  morning. 
Carriers  After  some  preliminary  conversation,  Gar- 
rick  took  up  the  play,  and  read  several  pas- 
sages with  a  taste,  feeling,  and  discrimina- 
tion, new  even  to  me,  who  had  seen  him  so 
often  in  this  character  on  the  stage.  But 
when  he  came  to  the  dagger  scene,  I  ob- 


In  a  Club  Corner  209 

served  his  face  instantly  assume  a  mixture 
of  horror,  perplexity,  and  guilt,  which  I 
thought  it  impossible  for  human  nature  to 
affect :  the  glare  of  his  eye  was  conform- 
able to  the  range  of  his  features,  and  he 
went  through  the  passage  in  a  style  totally 
indescribable.  I  then  saw  the  amazing 
effect  of  his  art  ;  in  which,  like  a  great  orig- 
inal  in  painting,  the  nearer  it  was  viewed, 
the  more  the  delicate  and  master  touches 
of  the  pencil  were  discernible.  The  event 
happened  about  thirty  years  ago  ;  and  I 
now  remember  it  with  a  sensibility  which, 
while  it  affords  me  the  most  lively  impres- 
sions, leads  me  to  despair  of  ever  '  seeing 
its  like  again.' " 

In  his  Memoirs,  he  also  makes  reference 
to  Dr.  Johnson's  remarkable  reading.    The 

..  remarkabU 

doctor  read  serious  and  sublime  poetry  reading. 
with  very  great  gravity  and  feeling.  In 
the  recital  of  prayers  and  religious  poems 
he  was  awfully  impressive,  and  his  memory 
served  him  upon  these  occasions  with  great 
readiness.  One  night  at  the  club  a  person 
quoting  the  nineteenth  psalm,  the  doctor 
caught  fire  ;  and,  instantly  taking  off  his 
hat,  began  with  great  solemnity, — 

"  The  spacious  firmament  on  high,"  etc.,  — 

and   went   through   that   beautiful   hymn. 


2io  In  a  Club  Corner 

Those  who  were  acquainted  with  the  doc- 
tor, knew  how  harsh  and  repulsive  his 
features  in  general  were ;  but  on  this  occa- 
sion, to  use  the  language  of  Scripture,  "  his 
face  was  almost  as  if  it  had  been  the  face 
of  an  angel." 

THK  OB-  It  was  the  opinion  of  Lord  Ly tton  —  ex- 
DBNCY.  KN  pressed  in  his  fine  drama  of  Money  —  that 
the  vices  and  the  virtues  are  written  in  a 
language  the  world  cannot  construe  —  it 
reads  them  in  a  vile  translation,  and  the 
translators  are  Failure  and  Success.  Car- 
lyle  was  very  angry  with  Emerson  for  not 
believing  in  a  devil,  and  to  convert  him 
took  him  amongst  all  the  horrors  of  Lon- 
don —  the  gin-shops,  etc.  —  and  finally  to 
the  House  of  Commons,  plying  him  at 
every  turn  with  the  question,  "Do  you 
believe  in  a  devil  noo  ?  "  A  young  tra- 
voitair*  gedienne  could  not  satisfy  Voltaire  in  a 
'youngtra-  passage  in  one  of  his  tragedies,  and  he 
gave  the  passage  himself  as  he  thought  it 
ought  to  be  delivered.  "  Why,"  said  she, 
"  I  should  have  to  have  the  devil  in  me  to 
reach  the  tone  you  wish ! "  "  Exactly  so, 
mademoiselle ! "  cried  the  author.  "  It  is  the 
devil  you  must  have  in  you,  to  excel  in  any 
of  the  arts."  Crebillon  wrote  effective  trag- 


In  a  Club  Corner  211 

edies,  chiefly  remarkable  for  their  power 
to  excite  terror.  Being  questioned,  after 
the  successful  production  of  one  of  his  ter- 
rific plays,  as  to  his  reason  for  choosing 
that  line,  he  answered,  "  Corneille  has  ap-  rh 
propriated  heaven,  and  Racine  the  earth. 
Nothing  remained  for  me  but  the  domain 
of  his  Satanic  majesty,  and  I  threw  myself 
into  it  headlong."  Washington  Irving,  in 
his  journal  of  a  trip  to  Montreal  in  1808, 
speaks  of  an  Irish  fellow-passenger,  who 
took  a  fancy  to  him  and  his  party,  and  was 
a  great  resource  to  them  in  the  tedium  of 
the  passage,  by  his  stories  of  fun  and  frolic. 
In  Montreal  the  jolly  fellow  called  to  beg 
them  not  to  whisper  a  word  of  his  capers 
on  the  journey,  "for  I 'm  a  praist,  you  see, 
and  in  this  country  a  praist  is  the  devil." 
There  is  a  curious  legend,  current  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Moscow,  that  when  the 
devil  once  tried  to  creep  into  Paradise,  he 
took  the  form  of  a  mouse  ;  the  dog  and  cat 
were  on  guard  at  the  gates,  and  the  dog 
allowed  the  evil  one  to  pass,  but  the  cat 
pounced  on  him,  and  so  defeated  another 
treacherous  attempt  against  human  felicity. 
To  those  who  would  kill  him  outright,  a  At 
lesson  of  interest  and  of  profit  may  be  thedevU- 
found  in  Rabelais.  "Gymnast  asked  Gar- 


212  In  a  Club  Corner 

gantua  if  they  should  pursue  the  enemy  ? 
To  whom  Gargantua  answered,  By  no 
means ;  for  according  to  right  military  dis- 
drive  ciplinc,  you  must  never  drive  your  enemy 
.  into  despair,  for  that  such  a  strait  doth 
multiply  his  force,  and  increase  his  courage, 
which  was  before  broken  and  cast  down ; 
neither  is  there  any  better  help,  or  outgate 
of  relief  for  men  that  are  amazed,  out  of 
heart,  toiled,  and  spent,  than  to  hope  for 
no  favor  at  all.  How  many  victories  have 
been  taken  out  of  the  hands  of  the  victors  by 
the  vanquished,  when  they  would  not  rest 
satisfied  with  reason,  but  attempt  to  put 
all  to  the  sword,  and  totally  to  destroy  their 
enemies,  without  leaving  so  many  as  one 
to  carry  home  news  of  the  defeat  of  his 
fellows.  Open,  therefore,  unto  your  ene- 
mies all  the  gates  and  ways,  and  make  to 
them  a  bridge  of  silver  rather  than  fail, 
that  you  may  be  rid  of  them."  Goethe's 
conception  of  the  character  and  reasoning 
of  Mephistopheles,  the  tempting  spirit  in 
the  play  of  Faust,  appeared  to  Scott,  in 
Quentin  Durward,  more  happy  than  that 
which  has  been  formed  by  Byron,  and  even 

by  the  Satan  of  Milton.     "  These  last  great 
authors  haye  given  to  the  Evil  principie 

something  which  elevates  and  dignifies  his 


In  a  Club  Corner  213 

wickedness ;  a  sustained  and  unconquer- 
able resistance  against  Omnipotence  itself 
—  a  lofty  scorn  of  suffering  compared  with 
submission,  and  all  those  points  of  attrac- 
tion in  the  Author  of  Evil,  which  have  in- 
duced Burns  and  others  to  consider  him  as 
the  Hero  of  the  Paradise  Lost.  The  great 
German  poet  has,  on  the  contrary,  rendered 
his  seducing  spirit  a  being  who,  otherwise 
totally  unimpassioned,  seems  only  to  have  ta* 
existed  for  the  purpose  of  increasing,  by 
his  persuasions  and  temptations,  the  mass 
of  moral  evil,  and  who  calls  forth  by  his 
seductions  those  slumbering  passions  which 
otherwise  might  have  allowed  the  human 
being  who  was  the  object  of  the  Evil 
Spirit's  operations  to  pass  the  tenor  of  his 
life  in  tranquillity.  For  this  purpose  Meph- 
istopheles  is,  like  Louis  XL,  endowed  Like  LO*U 
with  an  acute  and  depreciating  spirit  of 
caustic  wit  which  is  employed  incessantly 
in  undervaluing  and  vilifying  all  actions, 
the  consequences  of  which  do  not  lead  cer- 
tainly and  directly  to  self -gratification." 
Miss  Martineau  says  of  her  early  life  :  "  I 
did  not  at  any  time,  I  think,  believe  in 
the  devil,  but  understood  the  Scriptures  to 
speak  of  sin  under  that  name,  and  of  eter- 
nal detriment  under  the  name  of  eternal 


214  In  a  Club  Corner 

punishment.  I  believed  in  inestimable  and 
eternal  rewards  of  holiness  ;  but  I  am  con- 
fident that  I  never  in  my  life  did  a  right 
thing  or  abstained  from  a  wrong  one  from 
any  consideration  of  reward  or  punish- 
ment." 

WHISTLING.  A  writer  in  The  Gentleman's  Magazine, 
on  the  authority  of  Captain  Burton,  tells 
us  how  the  Arabs  dislike  whistling.  Some 
maintain  that  the  whistler's  mouth  is  not 
to  be  purified  for  forty  days,  while,  ac- 
cording to  the  explanation  of  others, 
Satan  touching  a  man's  body  causes 
him  to  produce  what  they  consider  an 
offensive  sound.  The  natives  of  the  Tonga 
Islands,  Polynesia,  hold  it  to  be  wrong  to 
whistle,  as  this  act  is  thought  to  be  dis- 
respectful to  God.  In  Iceland  the  villagers 
have  the  same  objection  to  whistling,  and 
so  far  do  they  carry  their  superstitious 
dread  of  it  that  "  if  one  swings  about  him 
a  stick,  whip,  wand,  or  aught  that  makes  a 
whistling  sound,  he  scares  from  him  the 
Holy  Ghost,"  while  other  Icelanders  who 
consider  themselves  free  from  superstitions 
cautiously  give  the  advice:  "Do  it  not; 
for  who  knoweth  what  is  in  the  air  ? "  A 
correspondent  of  Notes  and  Queries  re- 


In  a  Club  Corner  2/5 

lates  how  one  day,  after  attempting  in  vain 
to  get  his  dog  to  obey  orders  to  come  into 
the  house,  his  wife  tried  to  coax  it  by 
whistling,  when  she  was  suddenly  inter- 
rupted by  a  servant,  a  Roman  Catholic, 
who  exclaimed  in  the  most  piteous  accents 
"  If  you  please,  ma'am,  don't  whistle  — 
every  time  a  woman  whistles  the  heart  of  The  heart 
the  blessed  Virgin  bleeds."  In  some  dis- 
tricts  of  North  Germany  the  villagers  say 
that  if  one  whistles  in  the  evening  it  makes 
the  angels  weep.  It  is*  a  widespread  super- 
stition that  it  is  at  all  times  unlucky  for 
women  to  whistle,  which,  according  to  one 
legend,  originated  in  the  circumstance  that 
while  the  nails  for  our  Lord's  cross  were 
being  forged,  a  woman  stood  by  and  whis- 
tled. "  Do  it  not  ;  for  who  knoweth  what 
is  in  the  air  ?  " 


Morley  tells  us  that  when  Rousseau  and 
his  music-teacher  were  in  Lyons  together, 
the  latter  fell  into  an  epileptic  fit  in  the 
street.  Rousseau  called  for  help,  informed 
the  crowd  of  the  poor  man's  hotel,  and 
then  seizing  a  moment  when  no  one  was 
thinking  about  him,  turned  the  street  cor- 
ner, and  finally  disappeared,  the  musician 
being  thus  abandoned  by  the  only  friend 


2/6  In  a  Club  Corner 

on  whom  he  had  a  right  to  count.  It  thus 
appears  that  a  man  may  be  exquisitely 
moved  by  the  sound  of  bells,  the  song  of 
birds,  the  fairness  of  smiling  gardens,  and 
yet  be  capable  all  the  time,  without  a  qualm 
of  misgiving,  of  leaving  a  friend  senseless 
in  the  road  in  a  strange  place.  Barry  Corn- 
wall states  that  some  years  ago  Mr.  Charles 
Kemble  on  entering  Brussels  found  that 
Preparing  there  was  preparation  making  for  an  exe- 
cution.  cution  that  occupied  a  good  deal  of  atten- 
tion. Three  men  were  to  be  executed; 
but  one  man  was  remarkable  for  having 
committed  almost  twenty  assassinations  — 
having  broken  prison,  etc.,  and  for  being  a 
person  of  remarkable  talent.  Mr.  Kemble 
determined  to  witness  the  spectacle.  Now 
it  is  to  be  remembered  that  at  Brussels 
they  do  not  (or  did  not)  execute  any  crim- 
inals after  a  certain  hour  in  the  day ;  and 
in  order  not  to  run  too  near  this  hour, 
the  culprits  are  taken  to  the  block  some 
considerable  time  beforehand.  The  two 
undistinguished  rogues  were  melancholy 
Tht  notori-  enough  ;  but  the  notorious  one  was  anything 
but  chap-fallen.  He  was  well-dressed,  had 
a  good  carriage,  hummed  a  popular  air,  and 
in  all  other  things  exhibited  the  extreme 
of  self-possession.  On  his  way  to  the 


In  a  Club  Corner  2/7 

guillotine  (or  when  he  arrived   there)    he 

said,  "Now  don't  mix  my  head  with  those  Heads  not 

r   ,  ,  ,      ,  .  T  ,  ,  ,  to  be  mixed, 

fellows  ;  keep  it  apart.  I  would  not  have 
it  supposed  that  I  had  such  a  rascally  look 
as  either  of  these  vagabonds  for  the  world." 
The  Marechale  de  Luxembourg  was  the 
oracle  of  fashion,  and  her  decisions  on 
everything  in  high  life  were  without  ap- 
peal. "  One  Sunday  morning  (says  Ma- 
dame de  Genlis)  we  waited  only  for  the 
Prince  of  Conti's  arrival  to  celebrate  mass  ; 
we  were  all  seated  round  a  table  in  the 
drawing-room,  on  which  lay  our  prayer- 
books,  which  the  marechale  amused  herself 
by  turning  over.  All  at  once  she  stopped 
at  two  or  three  prayers,  which  seemed  to 
her  to  be  in  the  worst  possible  taste,  and 


of  which,  in  fact,  the  expressions  were  * 
somewhat  singular.  She  made  some  very 
bitter  remarks  on  these  prayers  ;  upon 
which  I  suggested  to  her,  that  it  was 
enough  if  they  were  repeated  with  sincere 
piety,  and  that  God  certainly  paid  no  atten- 
tion to  what  we  call  good  or  bad  taste. 
'  Oh  Madame,'  cried  the  mare'chale  very 
gravely,  '  don't  take  such  a  notion  as  that 
into  your  head  !  '  "  Barham  tells  of  an  old 
woman  on  board  a  vessel  who  told  some  of 
her  friends  that,  while  she  was  at  Margate 


218  In  a  Club  Corner 

in  the  course  of  the  summer,  the  friend  at 
whose  house  she  had  been  staying  had 
gone  into  the  market  for  the  purpose  of 
purchasing  a  goose.  There  were  but  two 
in  the  whole  place  offered  for  sale,  by  a  girl 
Not  to  be  of  fourteen,  who  refused  to  part  with  one 

parted. 

without  the  other,  assigning  no  other  rea- 
son for  her  obstinacy  than  that  it  was  her 
mother's  order.  Not  wishing  for  two  geese, 
the  lady  at  first  declined  to  purchase,  but 
at  last  finding  there  was  no  other  to  be 
had,  and  recollecting  that  a  neighbor  might 
be  prevailed  upon  to  take  one  off  her 
hands,  she  concluded  the  bargain.  Having 
paid  for  and  secured  the  pair,  she  asked  the 
girl  at  parting  if  she  knew  her  mother's 
reason  for  the  directions  she  had  given. 
"  Oh,  yes,  mistress,"  answered  the  young 
poultry  -  merchant  readily,  "mother  said 
that  they  had  lived  together  for  eleven 
years,  and  it  would  be  a  sin  and  a  shame 
to  part  them  now."  Mile.  Flachsland, 
who  married  Herder,  writes  to  her  be- 
trothed that  one  night  in  the  depth  of  the 
woods,  she  fell  on  her  knees  as  she  looked 
at  the  moon,  and  that  having  found  some 
glow-worms  she  put  them  into  her  hair, 
ciffoo-  being  careful  to  arrange  them  in  couples 
%%%.'"  that  she  might  not  disturb  their  loves  ! 


' 


In  a  Club  Corner  2/9 

"Nothing,"  in  the  judgment  of  Sir  COST  OF  EX. 
Joshua  Reynolds,  "  is  denied  to  well-di- 
rected  labor  ;  nothing  is  to  be  attained 
without  it."  "  Excellence  in  any  depart- 
ment," said  Johnson,  "  can  be  attained 
only  by  the  labor  of  a  lifetime  ;  it  is  not  to 
be  purchased  at  a  lesser  price."  Carlyle 
wrote  to  a  literary  aspirant  :  "  My  dear 
young  friend,  you  must  learn  the  indispen- 
sable significance  of  hard,  stern,  long-con- 
tinued labor.  Grudge  not  labor,  grudge 
not  pain,  disappointment,  sorrow,  or  dis- 
tress of  any  kind  —  all  is  for  your  good,  if 
you  can  endeavor  and  endure.  If  you  can- 
not, why  then  all  is  hopeless.  No  man 
ever  grew  to  anything  who  durst  not  look 
death  itself  in  the  face,  and  say  to  all  kinds 
of  martyrdom,  '  Ye  shall  not  subdue  me  !  ' 
Be  of  courage  ;  a  man  lies  in  you  ;  but  a 
man  is  not  born  the  second  time,  any  more 
than  the  first,  without  travail."  Lamb  re- 
lated that  when  at  Oxford  he  saw  Milton's 
MS.  of  L'Allegro,  etc.,  and  was  grieved 
to  find  from  the  corrections  and  erasures 
how  the  poet  had  labored  upon  them.  He 
had  fancied  that  they  had  come  from  his 
mind  almost  spontaneously.  He  said  that 
to  be  a  true  poet  a  man  must  serve  a  long 
and  rigorous  apprenticeship.  He  must, 


22O  In  a  Club  Corner 

like  the  mathematician,  sit  with  a  wet 
towel  about  his  head  if  he  wished  to  excel. 

Caleb  Godwin  wrote  his  Caleb  Williams  back- 
wards —  beginning,  that  is  to  say,  with  the 
last  chapter,  and  working  on  to  the  first 
Richardson  produced  his  novels  by  pain- 
fully elaborating  different  portions  at  dif- 
ferent times.  Burton,  Butler,  Locke, 
Fuller,  Warburton,  and  many  others,  labo- 
riously kept  commonplace  books.  Before 

The  spccta-  Addison  commenced  his  Spectator  he  had 
amassed  three  folio  volumes  of  materials. 
Sheridan  and  Hook,  it  is  well  known,  were 
always  on  the  alert  for  brilliant  bits  of  con- 
versation and  stray  jokes,  which  they  took 
good  care  to  jot  down  in  their  pocket- 
books  for  future  use.  Pope,  we  are  in- 
formed, scribbled  down  stray  thoughts 
whenever  they  struck  him  —  at  a  dinner- 
table,  in  an  open  carriage,  at  his  toilet, 

HogartK*  and  in  bed.  Hogarth  would  sketch  on  his 
finger-nail  any  face  that  struck  him,  hence 
the  marvelous  diversity  of  feature  in  his 
infinite  galleries  of  portraits.  Swift  would 
lie  in  bed  in  the  morning,  "  thinking  of  wit 
for  the  day,"  as  Hook  made  up  his  im- 
promptus the  night  before.  Washington 
Irving  was  fond  of  taking  his  portfolio  out 
into  the  fields,  and  laboriously  manipulating 


In  a  Club  Corner  221 

his  graceful  periods  while  swinging  on  a 
stile.  Lord  Truro,  like  Demosthenes,  had 
an  impediment  in  his  speech,  but  he  over-  overcoming 
came  it  by  forming  a  list  of  synonyms,  IZent 
which  he  substituted  for  the  words  he 
could  not  pronounce.  "  Every  bon  mot 
that  I  utter,"  said  Goethe,  "  costs  me  a 
purseful  of  money  ;  half  a  million  of  my 
private  fortune  has  passed  through  my 
hands  that  I  might  learn  what  I  know 
now ;  —  not  only  the  whole  of  my  father's 
fortune,  but  my  salary,  and  my  large  liter- 
ary income  for  more  than  fifty  years."  To 
Helvetius,  a  young  writer,  Voltaire  wrote  :  voitair 
"  It  costs  you  nothing  to  think,  but  it  costs 
infinitely  to  write.  I  therefore  preach  to 
you  eternally  that  art  of  writing  which 
Boileau  has  so  well  known  and  so  well 
taught :  that  respect  for  the  language,  that 
connection  and  sequence  of  ideas,  that  air 
of  ease  with  which  he  conducts  his  read- 
ers, that  naturalness  which  is  the  fruit  of 
art,  and  that  appearance  of  facility  which 
is  due  to  toil  alone.  A  word  out  of  place 
spoils  the  most  beautiful  thought."  Boi-  sonant 
leau  counseled  writers  to  remand  their  advtce' 
works  twenty  times  to  the  anvil,  and  he 
advised  Racine  to  compose  laboriously  easy 
verses.  Garrick  told  Henderson  he  was 


222  In  a  Club  Corner 

two  months  rehearsing  Benedict  before  he 
could  satisfy  himself  that  he  had  modeled 
his  action  and  recital  to  his  idea  of  the 

vrard*.       part      Wordsworth   said   that    sometimes 

**        whole  weeks  were  employed    in    shaping 

two  or  three  lines,  before  he  could  satisfy 

himself   with    their    structure.     Thomson 

was  fourteen  or  fifteen  years  writing  the 

Lincoln.  Castle  of  Indolence.  It  is  told  of  Lin- 
coln's boyhood  that  of  the  books  he  did 
not  own  he  took  voluminous  notes,  rilling 
his  copy-book  with  choice  extracts,  and 
poring  over  them  until  they  were  fixed  in 
his  memory.  He  could  not  afford  to  waste 
paper  upon  his  own  original  compositions. 
He  would  sit  by  the  fire  at  night  and  cover 
the  wooden  shovel  with  essays  and  arith- 
metical exercises,  which  he  would  shave 

Agauis.  off,  and  begin  again.  Agassiz  began  his 
studies  in  natural  history  by  copying  hun- 
dreds of  pages  from  a  Lamarck  which  some 
one  had  lent  him.  Madame  de  Genlis 
said  to  Moore  that  she  had  lost  thirty  or 
forty  volumes  of  extracts  which  she  had 
made  during  a  most  voluminous  course  ot 
English  reading.  She  deposited  them  for 
safe-keeping,  and  never  recovered  them. 

Rkkur.  Richter,  before  his  seventeenth  year,  had 
made  many  thick  volumes,  each  of  them  of 


In  a  Club  Corner  223 

more  than  three  hundred  quarto  pages. 
One  reason  for  it,  he  read  books  that  were 
not  always  his  own.  Bentley  is  said  by 
Monk,  his  biographer,  to  have  practiced 
throughout  life  the  precaution  of  noting  in 
the  margins  of  his  books  the  suggestions 
and  conjectures  which  rushed  into  his 
mind  during  their  perusal.  To  this  habit 
of  laying  up  materials  in  store  may  be 
partly  attributed  the  surprising  rapidity 
with  which  some  of  his  most  important 
works  were  completed.  Irving  relates  that 
he  was  once  riding  with  Moore  in  Paris,  Anecdote  of 
when  the  hackney-coach  went  suddenly  Moore- 
into  a  rut,  out  of  which  it  came  with  such 
a  jolt  as  to  send  their  heads  bumping 
against  the  roof.  "  By  Jove,  I  Ve  got  it !  " 
cried  Moore,  clapping  his  hands  with  great 
glee.  "  Got  what  ?  "  said  Irving.  "  Why," 
said  the  poet,  "that  word  which  I  have 
been  hunting  for  six  weeks  to  complete  my 
last  song.  That  beneficent  driver  has 
jolted  it  out  of  me."  "  That  is  a  picture  of 
Hawthorne,"  said  Longfellow  to  a  visitor,  Hawthorne. 
"  as  he  looked  when  he  was  about  twenty. 
He  was  a  shy  man,  and  exceedingly  re- 
fined. If  any  one  thought  he  wrote  with 
ease,  he  should  have  seen  him  as  I  have, 
seated  at  a  table  with  pen  and  paper  before 


In  a  Club  Corner 


DeTocgve* 
ville. 


Sterne's 
daughter. 


him,  perfectly  still,  not  writing  a  word.  On 
one  occasion  he  told  me  he  had  been  sit- 
ting so  for  hours,  waiting  for  an  inspiration 
to  write,  meanwhile  filled  with  gloom  and 
an  almost  apathetic  despair."  De  Tocque- 
ville,  at  the  end  of  his  preface  to  The  Old 
Regime  and  the  Revolution,  says :  "  I 
may  say,  I  think,  without  undue  self-lau- 
dation, that  this  book  is  the  fruit  of  great 
labor.  I  could  point  to  more  than  one 
short  chapter  that  has  cost  me  more  than 
a  year's  work."  As  a  commentary  on  all 
this,  it  may  be  stated  that  a  daughter  of 
Emerson  once  received  a  letter  from  a 
school-girl,  asking  for  what  price  her  father' 
would  write  a  valedictory  address  she  had 
to  deliver  at  college  !  Lamb  mentions  in 
one  of  his  Essays  having  once  complained 
to  a  schoolmaster  that  his  little  sketches 
were  anything  but  methodical,  and  that  he 
was  unable  to  make  them  otherwise,  when 
the  wise  professor  kindly  offered  to  in- 
struct him  in  the  method  by  which  young 
gentlemen  in  his  seminary  were  taught  to 
compose  English  themes !  The  sister  of 
Hannah  More  relates  that  Sterne's  daugh- 
ter —  Mrs.  Medalle  —  sent  to  all  the  cor- 
respondents of  her  deceased  father,  beg- 
ging the  letters  which  he  had  written  to 


In  a  Club  Corner  225 

them ;  among  other  wits,  she  sent  to 
Wilkes  with  the  same  request.  He  sent 
for  answer,  that  as  there  happened  to  be 
nothing  extraordinary  in  those  he  had  re- 
ceived, he  had  burnt  or  lost  them.  On 
which  the  faithful  editor  of  her  father's 
works  sent  back  to  say,  that  if  Mr.  Wilkes  A  remarh- 
would  be  so  good  as  to  write  a  few  letters  "*" 
in  imitation  of  her  father's  style,  it  would 
do  just  as  well,  and  she  would  insert  them  ! 
Donald  MacLeod,  in  his  Life  of  Sir  Wal- 
ter Scott,  relates  that  one  morning,  before 
breakfast  was  over  (on  the  occasion  of  a 
visit  of  a  distinguished  gentleman  at  Ab- 
botsford),  there  arrived  so  mighty  a  post- 
bag  that  the  guests  in  astonishment  asked 
the  reason.  Scott  answered  that  it  was 
always  so,  and  that  although  large  frank- 
ing privileges  were  at  his  service,  his  post- 
age bill  still  amounted  to  one  hundred  and 
fifty  pounds  annually.  He  was  deluged 
with  all  manner  of  letters.  On  one  occa- 
sion, a  young  lady  of  New  York  sent  him  a 
manuscript  play,  called  The  Cherokee  Lov- 

1       *'  be  Lovers. 

ers,  requesting  him  to  read  and  correct  it, 
equip  it  with  prologue  and  epilogue,  bring 
it  out  at  Drury  Lane,  and  get  a  handsome 
price  for  it  from  Murray  or  Constable. 
Postage,  five  pounds.  In  about  a  fort- 


226  In  a  Club  Corner 

night,  another  package  arrived,  out  of 
which,  on  being  opened,  popped  another 
copy  of  The  Cherokees,  with  another  letter, 
saying  that  as  the  winds  had  been  boister- 
ous, she  thought  that  the  vessel  containing 
the  tragedy  might  possibly  have  been  foun- 
dered, and  therefore  took  the  precaution  of 
sending  another  copy.  Postage,  five  pounds 


YOUTH  AND  Death  is  as  great  a  wonder  to  Youth  as 
life  is  to  Age.  Youth  is  ever  growing 
and  realizing.  His  look  into  the  sunless 
grave  is  blank  and  bewildered.  His  round 
eyes  and  radiant  face  are  set  upon  an  up- 
ward, sunny  path.  No  blow  of  disappoint- 
ment has  staggered  his  expectation,  and 
left  an  indelible  mark  upon  him.  He  em- 
ploys no  spies,  and  advances  without  scouts. 
He  has  not  learned  the  uses  of  suspicion 
Effect  of  and  caution.  Easy  advancement  has  made 
£££££*.  him  bold  and  confident.  He  believes  the 
future  is  in  his  fist.  He  does  not  know 
that  so  far  all  helps  have  been  supplied 
him,  and  will  continue  to  be  supplied,  till 
he  fails.  The  fledgeling,  left  to  flutter  alone, 
is  hopefully  and  trustingly  observed  by 
those  who  know  forces  and  currents.  Hu- 
manity has  generously  opened  a  way  and 


In  a  Club  Corner  227 

given  him  a  start.  His  sails  belly  with  all 
good  wishes.  The  world  would  not  have 
him  fail.  It  will  not  give  up  its  faith  in  its 
best  ideal.  Individuals  acknowledge  they  faU' 
have  failed,  but  they  do  not  quite  get  their 
consent  to  believe  that  an  individual  may 
not  exist  who  cannot  fail.  If  the  one  well- 
remembered  fatal  thing  done  or  omitted 
had  been  omitted  or  done,  they  might  have 
been  such  themselves.  The  possible  man 
who  cannot  err  nor  blunder,  and  who  can- 
not be  deceived  nor  baffled,  is  the  univer-  The 
sal  Messiah.  Wisdom,  dumb  and  grave,  ** 
and  Experience,  with  doubt  and  distrust  in 
every  wrinkle,  forget  truth  and  life,  lose 
themselves  in  the  contemplation  of  his 
beautiful  vigor  and  fleetness,  and  believe 
him  invincible.  They  look  through  the 
past,  and  see  themselves  in  the  fascinating 
being.  Prodigy  and  miracle.  Figure  erect, 
limbs  round,  veins  full  and  hot,  skin  glis- 
tening, hair  shaking  out  the  sunshine.  So 
full  of  bounding  life  that  his  sleep  must  be 
disturbed  by  rapturous  dreams  of  to-mor- 
row. Suggestion  of  danger  in  his  way 
would  be  insufficient  to  put  him  on  his 
guard,  if  time  were  allowed  to  hear  it.  He  Leamsob- 
must  learn  obstacles  by  confronting  them, 
and  encountering  them  one  at  a  time,  his  **"*" 


228  In  a  Club  Corner 

strong  right  arm  is  strengthened  by  strik- 
ing them  down.  But,  one  day,  Fraud  or 
New  eyes  Conspiracy  strikes,  and  new  eyes  are  sud- 
s£?wnhim.  denly  given  him.  He  sees  so  many  doubts 
and  difficulties  in  his  way,  that  he  can 
hardly  determine  to  move  at  all.  He  learns 
a  new  language,  and  applies  new  names. 
He  discovers  motives,  and  grows  dizzy  try- 
ing to  sound  them.  His  anxieties  and  dis- 
appointments are  hooks  in  his  side,  which 
turn  him  over  and  over  in  his  bed.  Ab- 
straction puzzles  him.  He  will  be  seeing 
things  without  their  disguises,  and  the 
habit  affects  his  character.  Dealing  so 
much  with  shams  and  devices,  he  comes  to 
suspect  even  the  genuine  and  real,  and 
feels  daily  the  gradual  decay  and  death  of 
the  ardor,  ingenuousness,  and  confidence 
which  ennobled  and  inspired  the  best  part 
of  his  life.  His  penetration  -and  sagacious 
second -sight  make  him  acquainted  with 
the  little  arts  and  artifices  of  his  fellows, 
and  he  acquires  a  certain  strength  and 
mastery  by  practicing  them.  But  such  a 
A  bundle  of  bundle  of  weaknesses  he  feels  must  fall 
apart.  Such  an  embodiment  of  frailties, 
instincts,  little  qualities,  little  faculties,  and 
distrust,  cannot  last.  Made  up  in  such 
great  part  of  what  is  worn  out  and  worth- 


In  a  Club  Corner  229 

less,  the  most  natural  thing,  he  thinks,  is 
that  it  should  be  transformed  into  some- 
thing better,  and  transported  to  a  condi- 
tion more  favorable  to  right  growth  and 
development. 

It  is  not  improbable,  if  the  disposition  SCHOOLS  at 
of  a  great  part  of  the  clergy  continues,  to 
give  less  and  less  attention  to  what  the 
world  esteems  as  morals,  apart  from  what 
they  esteem  religion,  that  a  system  of 
schools  will  arise,  in  which  radical  morals, 
as  an  essential  part  of  religion,  will  be 
taught  to  the  people.  Attempts  to  divorce 
them  only  tend  to  weaken  and  confuse  the 
public  conscience,  and  diminish  the  in- 
fluence of  spiritual  leaders. 

The  time  may  come  when  chairs  of  corn-  CHAIRS  OF 
mon  sense  will  be  set  up  in  the  universities.  SENSE. 
The  trouble  may  be  to  fill  them  ;  but  suit- 
able  men,   when   wanted,  will   be   found. 
The  distinction  between  scholarship  and 
usefulness  will   be  better  defined.      Boys 
will  more  and  more  be  educated  for  the 
uses  of  education  ;  and  so  much  that  must 
be  unlearned  will  give  place  to  what  may 
be  applied. 


2}o  In  a  Club  Corner 

SMALL  Southey  mentions  that   Dr.   Shaw,  the 

naturalist,  was  one  day  showing  to  a  friend 
two  volumes  written  by  a  Dutchman  upon 
the  wings  of  a  butterfly,  in  the  British 
Museum.  "The  dissertation  is  rather 
voluminous,  perhaps  you  will  think,"  said 
the  enthusiastic  naturalist,  gravely,  "but 
it  is  immensely  important."  "The  pur- 
suit of  the  greatest  trifles,"  said  Dr.  Cocchi 
to  Spence,  "may  sometimes  have  a  very 
good  effect:  the  search  after  the  philoso- 
pher's stone  has  preserved  chemistry ;  and 
the  following  astrology  so  much  in  former 
ages,  has  been  the  cause  of  astronomy's 
being  so  much  advanced  in  ours.  Sir  Isaac 
Newton  himself  has  owned  that  he  began 
with  studying  judicial  astrology,  and  that 
it  was  his  pursuit  of  that  idle  and  vain 
study  which  led  him  into  the  beauties  of, 
and  love  for,  astronomy."  It  has  been 
pronounced  a  great  characteristic  of  genius 
to  do  great  things  with  little  means.  Pax- 
ton  could  see  that  so  small  a  matter  as  a 
greenhouse  could  be  dilated  into  a  crystal 
palace,  and  with  two  common  materials  — 
glass  and  iron — he  raised  the  palace  of 
the  genii ;  the  brightest  idea  and  the 
noblest  ornament  added  to  Europe  in  this 
century  —  the  Koh-i-noor  of  the  west. 


In  a  Club  Corner  231 

Livy's   definition  of   Archimedes  goes  on 

the  same  ground.     Tames  Watt,  when  sit-  Wattiec- 

.    ,     ,  ,,     .        turedforhis 

ting  one  evening  with  his  aunt,  Mrs.  Muir-  idunea. 
head,  at  the  tea-table,  was  lectured  by  her 
for  his  idleness.  "  Take  a  book,"  she  said, 
"or  do  something  useful,  — you  have  done 
nothing  for  the  last  hour  but  to  take  off 
the  lid  of  that  kettle  and  put  it  on  again  ; 
are  you  not  ashamed  of  spending  your  time 
in  this  way?"  The  poor  boy  had  been 
making  experiments  on  the  condensation 
of  steam,  now  holding  a  cup,  and  now  a 
silver  spoon  over  the  issuing  vapor,  and 
catching  and  collecting  the  drops  into 
which  it  fell.  He  had  at  this  time  ob- 
tained the  first  glimpses  of  that  bright  idea 
which,  after  making  his  own  fortune,  has 
made  the  fortunes  of  thousands  —  the  con- 
densation of  steam  in  a  separate  vessel. 
Little  creatures,  of  no  real  importance  but 
to  themselves,  get  to  be  sometimes  of  con- 
sideration by  what  they  attach  themselves 
to.  "  Nature,"  says  Sydney  Smith,  "  de- 
scends down  to  infinite  smallness.  A  great 
man  has  his  parasites ;  and  if  you  take  a 
large  buzzing  blue-bottle  fly,  and  look  at  it 
in  a  microscope,  you  may  see  twenty  or 
thirty  little  ugly  insects  crawling  about  it, 
which,  doubtless,  think  their  fly  to  be  the 


232  In  a  Club  Corner 

bluest,  grandest,  merriest,  most  important 
animal  in  the  universe ;  and  are  convinced 
the  world  would  be  at  an  end  if  it  ceased 
to  buzz."  It  has  been  calculated  that  the 
insect  life  upon  our  globe,  if  piled  in  one 
mass,  would  exceed  in  magnitude  the  heap 
which  would  be  made  by  bringing  together 
all  the  beasts  and  birds.  There  is  a  class 

infusoria.  of  animalcules  called  Infusoria,  because 
they  can  be  obtained  by  infusing  any  vege- 
table or  animal  substance  in  water,  which, 
says  Professor  Owen,  "are  the  most  mi- 
nute, and  apparently  the  most  insignificant 
of  created  beings.  Many  of  them  are  so 
diminutive  that  a  single  drop  of  water  may 
contain  five  hundred  millions  of  individu- 
als, a  number  nearly  equaling  that  of  one 
half  of  the  whole  human  species  now  exist- 
ing upon  the  surface  of  the  globe."  Never- 
theless the  varieties  in  size  are  such  that 
the  difference  between  -the  smallest  and 
the  largest  "is  greater  than  that  between 
a  mouse  and  an  elephant,"  though  even 
the  elephant  of  the  race  is  altogether  in- 
visible to  the  naked  eye.  As  to  those 

g^g:  remarkable  sub-soilers,  the  common  earth- 
worms, the  ground  is  almost  alive  with 
them.  Wherever  mould  is  turned  up,  it  is 
truly  said,  there  these  sappers  and  miners 


In  a  dub  Corner  233 

are  turned  up  with  it.  They  are  nature's 
plowmen.  They  bore  the  stubborn  soil  in 
every  direction,  and  render  it  pervious  to 
air,  rain,  and  the  fibres  of  plants.  With- 
out these  auxiliaries,  "the  farmer,"  says 
Gilbert  White,  "  would  find  that  his  land 
would  become  cold,  hard-bound,  and  ster- 
ile." The  green  mantle  of  vegetation  which 
covers  the  earth  is  dependent  upon  the 
worms  which  burrow  in  the  bowels  of  it. 
Wrhat  conveys  a  more  definite  idea  of  the 
magnitude  of  their  operations,  they  are 
perpetually  replenishing  the  upper  soil, 
and  covering  with  soft  and  fine  material  a  upper  son. 
crust  which  before  was  close  and  ungenial. 
They  swallow  a  quantity  of  earth  with  their 
food,  and  having  extracted  the  nutriment 
they  eject  the  remainder  at  the  outlet  of 
their  holes.  This  refuse  forms  the  worm- 
casts  which  are  the  annoyance  of  the  gar- 
dener, who  might  be  reconciled  to  them 
if  he  were  aware  that  the  depositors  save 
him  a  hundred  times  more  labor  than  they 
cause.  Mr.  Charles  Darwin  has  shown  statement 
that  in  thirteen  years  a  field  of  pasture  •*?«. 
was  covered  to  a  depth  of  three  inches  and 
a  half  with  the  mould  discharged  from 
their  intestines,  and  in  another  case  the 
layer  they  had  accumulated  in  eighty  years 


2j?4  IH  a  Club  Corner 

was  from  twelve  to  fourteen  inches  thick. 
They  therefore  play  a  most  important  part 
in  the  economy  of  vegetation,  and  we  see 
why  they  teem  throughout  the  surface  of 
the  globe.  "  I  was  told,"  says  Lady  Mary 
Wortley  Montagu,  "  by  a  very  good  author, 
who  is  deep  in  the  secret,  that  at  this  very 
minute  there  is  a  bill  cooking  up  at  a  hunt- 
™<trd"™t "  mg"seat  m  Norfolk,  to  have  '  not '  taken  out 
of  the  Commandments,  and  clapped  into 
the  Creed,  the  ensuing  season  of  Parlia- 
ment. This  bold  attempt  for  the  liberty 
of  the  subject  is  wholly  projected  by  Mr. 
Walpole,  who  proposed  it  to  the  secret 
committee  in  his  parlor.  William  Young 
seconded  it,  and  answered  for  all  his  ac- 
quaintances voting  right  to  a  man.  Dod- 
ington1  very  gravely  objected  that  the 
obstinacy  of  human  nature  was  such  that 
he  feared  when  they  had  positive  com- 
mands to  do  so  perhaps  people  would  not 
commit  adultery  and  bear  false  witness 
against  their  neighbors  with  the  readiness 
and  cheerfulness  they  do  at  present.  This 
Doding.  objection  seemed  to  sink  deep  into  the 
£?  "  minds  of  the  great  politicians  at  the  boards, 
and  I  don't  know  whether  the  bill  won't  be 
dropped."  Goethe's  connection  with  the 
Weimar  theatre,  it  is  said,  was  finally  and 


In  a  Club  Corner  235 

wholly  broken  off  by  means  of  a  dog  and  a  A  dog  and 
mistress.  One  Karsteh  possessed  a  per- 
forming poodle,  and  traveled  about  with 
this  intelligent  animal,  representing  a  cer- 
tain melodrama.  The  pampered  and  petted 
Von  Heygendorff  bore  a  spite  against  the 
inflexible  director,  and,  with  feminine  mal- 
ice, she,  in  order  to  annoy  Goethe,  induced 
her  lover,  the  duke,  to  consent  to  an  en- 
gagement of  Karsten  and  his  dog.  Goethe 
at  once  resigned,  and  the  duke  accepted 
the  resignation.  He  afterwards  withdrew 
his  acceptance,  but  Goethe  remained 
proudly  inflexible ;  and  the  classic  epoch 
of  the  Weimar  theatre  was  terminated  by 
a  clever  and  unconscious  poodle,  who  emu-  Goethe  in* 
lated  the  mischief  produced  by  Newton's  fll 
dog  Diamond.  It  is  related  that  when 
Layard,  the  discoverer  of  Nineveh,  was 
twenty  years  old  and  lounging  through 
Mesopotamia  he  was  captured  by  an  Arab 
tribe  and  made  the  chief's  cook,  in  which 
position  he  was  greatly  admired,  and  called 
by  the  women  of  the  tribe  "the  blue-eyed." 
He  did  not  enjoy  his  slavery,  and  after  a 
while  managed  to  communicate  with  his 
friends,  and  at  the  end  of  a  good  deal  of 
talk  the  Arab  chief  consented  to  exchange 
his  prisoner  for  a  greyhound,  celebrated  in 


2^6  In  a  Club  Corner 

the  country  for  hunting  gazelles.  His  first 
halt  on  his  return  to  civilization  was  at  the 
encampment  of  Botta,  who  had  been  mak- 
ing longitudinal  excavations,  and  to  his 
despair  without  result.  Layard  was  struck 
by  a  clever  idea  —  to  cut  transversely. 

Nineveh  This  was  done,  and  Nineveh  was  discovered. 
That  happy  thought  decided  his  vocation 
—  he  became  an  archaeologist.  "  The  only 
memory  I  don't  like,"  said  Layard,  gayly, 
"  is  that  I  was  exchanged  for  a  dog.  My 
only  consolation  is  in  the  fact  that  a  Se- 
longui  greyhound  is  considered  by  Mussul- 
mans as  an  especially  noble  animal."  The 
foolish  ballad  of  Lilli  Burlero,  treating  the 
Papists,  and  chiefly  the  Irish,  in  a  very 
ridiculous  manner,  slight  and  insignificant 
as  it  now  seems,  had  once  a  more  powerful 

Effect  of  a  effect  than  the  Philippics  of  either  Demos- 
thenes or  Cicero  ;  it  contributed  not  a  little 
toward  the  great  revolution  in  1688  ;  the 
whole  army  and  the  people  in  country  and 
city  caught  it  up,  and  "sang  a  deluded 
prince  out  of  three  kingdoms."  The  air 
is  gay  and  beautiful ;  it  is  one  of  the  mas- 
terpieces of  Purcell,  and  lingers  in  the  ear 
of  every  person  who  has  once  heard  it. 
No  wonder  My  Uncle  Toby  adopted  it  as 
a  favorite  and  resource.  Strahan,  the 


In  a  Club  Corner  2^7 

printer,  and  friend  of  Johnson,  once  ob- 
served that  many  men  were  kept  back  from 
trying  their  fortunes  in  London  because 
they  were  born  to  a  competency,  and  said, 
"  Small  certainties  are  the  bane  of  men 

tainties 

of  talents."  "Small  debts,"  said  John- 
son, "are  like  small  shot;  they  are  rat- 
tling on  every  side,  and  can  scarcely  be 
escaped  without  a  wound  :  great  debts  are 
like  cannon ;  of  loud  noise,  but  little 
danger.  You  must,  therefore,  be  enabled 
to  discharge  petty  debts,  that  you  may  have 
leisure,  with  security,  to  struggle  with  the 
rest."  A  gentleman  visited  Gibson,  the 
sculptor,  not  long  before  his  death,  when 
he  found  him  busy  with  his  beautiful  Pan- 
dora—  finished,  as  it  seemed,  but  still  "in 
the  clay."  There  she  stood  —  a  model  of 
refined  grace  —  her  box  in  her  hand.  The 
old  man  sat  before  it,  talking  and  philoso- 
phizing. As  he  talked,  he  would  gaze  at 
his  figure  and,  wetting  his  finger,  would  Figure  O 

,  .  .  i  r  t        Pandora 

now  and  again  pass  it  down  the  surface  of  a 
limb,  giving  a  faint  depression,  or  scraping 
off  a  film  as  faint.  "  Bless  you,"  he  said, 
"  there 's  a  month's  work  on  it  yet !  "  Re- 
minding one  of  the  saying  of  the  old 
Greek  sculptor,  answering  his  objector  that 
these  were  trifles.  "  Trifles  make  per- 


238  In  a  Club  Corner 

faction,  and  perfection  is  no  trifle."  Ah  ! 
trifles  !  "  How  much  wiser,"  exclaimed 
Lady  Mary  Montagu,  "  are  all  those  women 
I  have  despised  than  myself !  In  placing 
their  happiness  in  trifles,  they  have  placed 
it  in  what  is  attainable." 

SECTS  AND  Bayle  in  his  Dictionary  tells  us  that  the 
sect  which  pleased  Milton  most  in  his 
youth  was  that  of  the  Puritans  ;  but  in  his 
middle  age  he  was  best  pleased  with  the 
Independents  and  Anabaptists,  because 
they  allowed  more  liberty  to  every  private 
person,  and  in  his  opinion  seemed  to  come 
nearest  to  the  primitive  Christians  :  but  in 
the  latter  part  of  his  life  he  separated  him- 
self from  all  communions,  and  did  not  fre- 
quent any  Christian  assembly,  nor  made 
use  of  their  peculiar  rites  in  his  family. 
As  for  the  rest,  he  expressed  the  profound- 
est  reverence  to  God  as  well  in  deeds  as 
words.  It  has  been  very  justly  said  that 
the  whole  tangle  of  authoritative  creeds 
Tke  tangle  is,  at  the  best,  embarrassing.  They  lead  a 
'inf.  ™  '  man,  from  their  nature,  to  try  to  continue 
in  a  belief  which  he  once  thought  he  had. 
They  give  a  fossil  form  to  what  should  be 
pliant,  elastic,  and  alive.  I  believe,  said 
Dean  Swift,  that  thousands  of  men  would 


In  a  Club  Corner  239 

be  orthodox  enough  in  certain  points,  if 
divines  had  not  been  too  curious,  or  too  Divines  too 
narrow,  in  reducing  orthodoxy  within  the  ^o^rrow. 
compass  of  subtleties,  niceties,  and  dis- 
tinctions, with  little  warrant  from  Scrip- 
ture, and  less  from  reason  or  good  policy. 
When  Theodore  Hook,  in  the  old  days  of 
the  English  test  oath,  was  asked  if  he 
could  swear  to  the  XXXIX  articles,  he  re- 
plied, "  Certainly,  with  all  my  heart ;  I  am 
only  sorry  there  are  not  more  of  them." 
Love,  in  the  judgment  of  Hunt,  is  the  The  creed 

,.          .  destined  to 

only  creed  destined  to  survive  all  others,  survive. 
"  They  who  think  that  no  church  can  exist 
without  a  strong  spice  of  terror,  should 
watch  the  growth  of  education,  and  see 
which  system  of  it  is  most  beloved.  They 
should  see,  also,  which  system  in  the  very 
nursery  is  growing  the  most  ridiculous." 

A    late     commentator    upon     Goethe's  GOOD  OUT 
Faust  is  free  to  express  the  opinion  that  OFEv11" 
"  evil,  as  a  stimulant  to  deed,  to  creative 
activity,  is   an   element   of  progress ;    as 
selfish  indulgence,  producing  indolence  and 
intellectual    inactivity,    tends    downward, 
and  causes  cessation  of  spiritual  life.     It 
is  in  this  respect  comparable  to  poisons 
which  in   certain   solutions  stimulate  the 


$40  In  a  Club  Corner 

vital  forces  of  the  human  system  and  are 
useful  as  medicines,  while  in  their  undiluted 
state  they  have  the  directly  opposite  effect, 
causing  instant  cessation  of  the  animal 
Material  life.  If  there  are  material  things  which 

things  and 

moral         have  this  double  action  upon  the  physical 

agencies  r     J 

system,  may  there  not  be  moral  agencies, 
too,  that  have  analogous  effects  upon  the 
moral  system?"  Southey,  in  one  of  his 
attractive  biographies,  tells  us  how  Louis 
XIV.  "by  one  wicked  edict  revoked  the 
privileges  of  the  French  Protestants,  and 
by  another  of  the  same  day  prohibited 
their  public  worship,  banished  their  min- 
isters, and  decreed  that  their  children 
should  be  educated  by  Roman  Catholic 
priests  in  the  Roman  Catholic  faith  ;  the 
better  to  insure  obedience  he  quartered 
dragoons  upon  them,  and  left  them  to  the 
mercy  of  his  military  missionaries.  The 
The  Dra-  Dragonnades,  as  they  were  called,  were  a 
eon****,.  ^  afterpiece  to  the  tragedy  of  St.  Bartholo- 
mew's day.  The  number  of  persons  who 
emigrated  in  consequence  of  this  execrable 
persecution  has  been  variously  computed 
from  fifty  to  five  hundred  thousand  ;  more 
meritorious  men  were  never  driven  from 
their  native  country,  and  every  country 
which  afforded  them  refuge  was  amply  re- 


In  a  Club  Corner  241 

warded  by  their  talents,  their  arts,  and  their 
industry.  Prussia  received  a  large  and  most 
beneficial  increase  of  useful  subjects  ;  they 
multiplied  the  looms  of  England,  and  gave  Effect  of 
new  activity  to  the  trade  of  Holland. 
Some  of  these  refugees  converted  rocks 
into  vineyards  on  the  shores  of  the  Leman 
Lake ;  and  British  Africa  is  indebted  to 
others  for  wines  which  will  one  day  rival 
those  of  the  Rhine  and  the  Garonne." 
Few  men  were  more  bigoted  or  cruel  than  cruelty  and 
Archbishop  Laud.  He  sharpened  the  i%£dy 
spiritual  sword,  and  drew  it  against  all  sorts 
of  offenders,  intending  that  the  discipline 
of  the  church  should  be  felt  as  well  as 
spoken  of.  There  had  not  been  such  a 
crowd  of  business  in  the  High  Commission 
Court  since  the  Reformation,  nor  so  many 
large  fines  imposed,  as  under  the  prelate's 
administration.  The  fines,  we  are  told, 
were  assigned  to  the  repairs  of  St.  Paul's, 
which  gave  rise  to  the  proverb,  that  "  the 
church  was  repaired  with  the  sins  of  the 
people." 

John  Wesley,  according  to  his  best  bi-  THE  FAITH 
ographer,  related  remarkable  cures  wrought 
by  his   faith   and   his    prayers,  which   he 
considered,  and  represented,  as  positively 


242  In  a  Club  Corner 

miraculous.  By  thinking  strongly  on  a 
text  of  Scripture  which  promised  that  these 
signs  should  follow  those  that  believe,  and 
by  calling  on  Christ  to  increase  his  faith 
and  confirm  the  word  of  his  grace,  he  shook 
off  instantaneously,  he  says,  a  fever  which 
had  hung  upon  him  for  some  days,  and  was 
in  a  moment  freed  from  all  pain,  and  re- 
stored  to  his  former  strength.  He  visited 
a  believer  at  night  who  was  not  expected 
to  live  till  the  morning :  the  man  was 
speechless  and  senseless,  and  his  pulse 
gone.  "  A  few  of  us,"  says  Wesley,  "  im- 
mediately joined  in  prayers.  I  relate  the 
naked  fact.  Before  we  had  done,  his  senses 
and  his  speech  returned.  Now,  he  that  will 
account  for  this  by  natural  causes  has  my 
free  leave.  But  I  choose  to  say  this  is  the 
power  of  God."  So,  too,  when  his  own 
teeth  ached,  he  prayed,  and  the  pain  left 
him.  And  this  faith  was  so  strong,  that  it 
Curedkis  sufficed  to  cure,  not  only  himself,  but  his 
horse  also.  "  My  horse,"  he  says,  "  was  so 
exceedingly  lame,  that  I  was  afraid  I  must 
have  lain  by.  We  could  not  discern  what 
it  was  that  was  amiss,  and  yet  he  could 
scarce  set  his  foot  to  the  ground.  By  riding 
thus  seven  miles  I  was  thoroughly  tired, 
and  my  head  ached  more  than  it  had  done 


In  a  Club  Corner  24) 

for  some  months.  What  I  here  aver  is  the 
naked  fact :  let  every  man  account  for  it 
as  he  sees  good.  I  then  thought,  '  Cannot 
God  heal  either  man  or  beast,  by  any 
means,  or  without  any  ?'  Immediately  my 
weariness  and  headache  ceased,  and  my 
horse's  lameness  in  the  same  instant.  Nor 
did  he  halt  any  more  either  that  day  or  the 
next." 

It  is  related  that  Scott,  while  attending  POVERTY. 
Dugald  Stewart's  lectures  on  moral  philos- 
ophy, sat  often  beside  a  person  consider- 
ably older  than  himself  —  of  a  very  humble 
rank,  apparently,  but  of  great  diligence  in 
his  studies.  Scott  paid  him  some  atten- 
tion, and  they  contracted  quite  an  inti- 
macy, and  used  to  take  walks  together ; 
but  the  young  man  never  spoke  of  his 
parentage  or  residence.  One  day  Scott 
stopped  to  relieve  a  bluegown,  or  licensed  A  blue. 
beggar,  who  stood  hat  in  hand,  silently  eom' 
leaning  on  his  staff.  This  happened  three 
or  four  times,  and  Scott  was  beginning  to 
get  acquainted  with  the  old  man,  when,  one 
day,  he  met  him  in  company  with  his  fel- 
low-student, who  showed  some  confusion. 
"  Do  you  know  anything  to  the  old  man's 
discredit  ? "  asked  Walter.  "  Oh,  no,  sir  ; 


244  IH  a  Club  Corner 

God  forbid  !  "  cried  the  poor  fellow,  burst- 
ing into  tears ;  "  but  I  am  a  poor  wretch 
to  be  ashamed  to  speak  to  him.  He  is  my 
own  father !  He  has  enough  laid  by  to 
serve  him  in  his  old  age ;  but  he  stands 
there,  bleaching  his  head  in  the  wind,  that 
he  may  get  the  means  of  paying  for  my 
Anexcia-  education  ! "  True  enough  is  the  excla- 
*$ickenJ.  mation  of  Dickens,  in  Bleak  House, 
"  What  the  poor  are  to  the  poor,  is  little 
known,  excepting  to  themselves  and  God." 
"Poverty,"  says  Plutarch,  "is  not  dishon- 
orable in  itself,  but  only  when  it  arises 
from  idleness,  intemperance,  extravagance, 
and  folly."  "  An  avowal  of  poverty  is  a 
disgrace  to  no  man ;  to  make  no  effort  to 
escape  from  it  is  indeed  disgraceful,"  is  a 
saying  of  Thucydides.  When  Faustine,  in 
Hugo's  masterpiece,  saw  that  she  could 
FnatiMe's  live  by  her  small  wages,  she  had  a  moment 

moment  of          -._,. 

joy-  of  joy.     To  live  honestly  by  her  own  toil, 

what  a  favor  of  Heaven  !  There  is  a  pas- 
sage of  vivid  description  in  one  of  Dick- 
ens' stories  —  who  could  forget  it  ?  "  In 
a  small  English  country  town,  the  inhabit- 
ants of  which  supported  themselves  by  the 
labor  of  their  hands  in  plaiting  and  pre- 
paring straw  for  those  who  made  bonnets 
and  other  articles  of  dress  and  ornament 


In  a  Club  Corner  245 

from  that  material  —  concealed  under  an 
assumed  name,  and  living  in  a  quiet  pov- 
erty which  knew  no  change,  no  pleasures, 
and  few  cares  but  that  of  struggling  on 
from  day  to  day  in  the  one  great  toil  for 
bread  —  dwelt  Barnaby  and  his  mother." 

T    ,  .     .  .  .   .  andhis 

Johnson,  giving  expression  to  his  own  mother. 
wretched  experience,  wrote  from  time  to 
time  to  Boswell,  "  Poverty,  my  dear  friend, 
is  so  great  an  evil,  and  pregnant  with  so 
much  temptation,  and  so  much  misery,  that 
I  cannot  but  earnestly  enjoin  you  to  avoid 
it.  Live  on  what  you  have ;  live  if  you 
can  on  less ;  do  not  borrow  either  for  van- 
ity or  pleasure;  the  vanity  will  end  in 
shame,  and  the  pleasure  in  regret  ;  stay 
therefore  at  home,  till  you  have  saved 
money  for  your  journey  hither.  Do  not 
accustom  yourself  to  consider  debt  only  as 
an  inconvenience  ;  you  will  find  it  a  ca- 
lamity. Poverty  takes  away  so  many  means 
of  doing  good,  and  produces  so  much  ina- 
bility to  resist  evil,  both  natural  and  moral, 
that  it  is  by  all  virtuous  means  to  be 
avoided.  Consider  a  man  whose  fortune  °tob?ea 
is  very  narrow ;  whatever  his  rank  by  aJ 
birth,  or  whatever  his  reputation  by  intel- 
lectual excellence,  what  can  he  do?  or 
what  evil  can  he  prevent  ?  That  he  cannot 


246  In  a  Club  Corner 

help  the  needy,  is  evident ;  he  has  nothing 
to  spare.  But,  perhaps,  his  advice  or  ad- 
monition may  be  useful.  His  poverty  will 
destroy  his  influence  ;  many  more  can  find 
that  he  is  poor,  than  that  he  is  wise ;  and 
few  will  reverence  the  understanding  that 
is  of  so  little  advantage  to  its  owner.  Re- 
solve  not  to  be  poor  ;  whatever  you  have, 
spend  less.  Poverty  is  a  great  enemy  to 
human  happiness ;  it  certainly  destroys 
liberty,  and  it  makes  some  virtues  imprac- 
ticable, and  others  extremely  difficult.  No 
man  can  help  others  that  wants  help  him- 
self ;  we  must  have  enough  before  we  have 
to  spare.  I  remember,  and  entreat  you  to 
remember,  that  the  first  approach  to  riches 
is  security  from  poverty."  The  saying  of 
Socrates,  that  "he  who  wants  least  is 
most  like  the  gods,  who  want  nothing," 
was  a  favorite  sentence  with  Johnson. 
Fortunately,  the  necessaries  of  life  do  not 
cost  much,  or  the  poor  could  not  live. 
"The  laws  of  nature  teach  us  exactly  what 
v* need!  we  need,"  says  Montaigne.  "After  the 
sages  have  told  us  that  according  to  nature 
no  one  is  indigent,  and  that  every  one  is 
so  according  to  opinion,  they  very  subtly 
distinguish  between  the  desires  that  pro- 
ceed from  her  and  those  that  proceed  from 


In  a  Club  Corner  247 

the  disorder  of  our  own  fancy ;  those  of 
which  we  can  see  the  end  are  hers  ;  those 
that  fly  from  us,  and  of  which  we  can  see 
no  end,  are  our  own.  Want  of  goods  is 
easily  repaired  ;  poverty  of  soul  is  irrepara- 
ble." Adversity  has  been  called  the  trial  Adversity 

r  •     i  iTT-1  •  in       the  trial  of 

of  principle.  Without  it  a  man  hardly  principle. 
knows  whether  he  is  an  honest  man. 
"  However  mean  your  life  is,  meet  it  and 
live  it,"  says  Thoreau ;  "do  not  shun  it 
and  call  it  hard  names.  It  is  not  as  bad 
as  you  are.  It  looks  poorest  when  you  are 
richest.  The  fault-finder  will  find  faults 
even  in  paradise.  Love  your  life,  poor  as 
it  is.  You  may  perhaps  have  some  pleas- 
ant, thrilling,  glorious  hours,  even  in  a 
poor-house.  The  setting  sun  is  reflected 
from  the  windows  of  the  almshouse  as 
brightly  as  from  the  rich  man's  abode  ;  the 
snow  melts  before  its  door  as  early  in  the 
spring.  I  do  not  see  but  a  quiet  mind  may 
live  as  contentedly  there,  and  have  as 
cheering  thoughts,  as  in  a  palace.  The 
town's  poor  seem  to  me  often  to  live  the 
most  independent  lives  of  any.  May  be 
they  are  simply  great  enough  to  receive 
without  misgiving.  Most  think  that  they 
are  above  being  supported  by  the  town ; 
but  it  often  happens  that  they  are  not 


248  In  a  Club  Corner 

above  supporting  themselves  by  dishonest 
means,  which  should  be  more  disreputable. 
Cultivate  poverty  like  a  garden  herb,  like 
sage.  Do  not  trouble  yourselves  much  to 
get  new  things,  whether  clothes  or  friends. 
Turn  the  old  ;  return  to  them.  Things  do 
not  change ;  we  change.  Sell  your  clothes 
and  keep  your  thoughts.  God  will  see  that 
you  do  not  want  society."  "O,  beloved 
Thefhiioso-  and  gentle  Poverty ! "  exclaims  Souves- 
%Zmrt£*.  tre's  philosopher  in  his  attic  ;  "  pardon  me 
for  having  for  a  moment  wished  to  fly 
from  thee,  as  I  would  from  Want ;  stay 
here  forever  with  thy  charming  sisters, 
Pity,  Patience,  Sobriety,  and  Solitude  ;  be 
ye  my  queens  and  my  instructors  ;  teach 
me  the  stern  duties  of  life ;  remove  far 
from  my  abode  the  weakness  of  heart, 
and  giddiness  of  head  which  follow  pros- 
"Hoiy  perity.  Holy  Poverty!  teach  me  to  en- 
dure without  complaining,  to  impart  with- 
out grudging,  to  seek  the  end  of  life  higher 
than  in  pleasure,  farther  off  than  in  power. 
Thou  givest  the  body  strength,  thou  mak- 
est  the  mind  more  firm  ;  and,  thanks  to 
thee,  this  life,  to  which  the  rich  attach 
themselves  as  to  a  rock,  becomes  a  bark  of 
which  death  may  cut  the  cable  without 
awakening  all  our  fears.  Continue  to  sus- 


In  a  Club  Corner  249 

tain  me,  O  thou  whom  Christ  hath  called 
Blessed."  "  O  hunger,  hunger,  immor-  Hu 
tal  hunger ! "  apostrophizes  John  Buncle. 
"  Thou  art  the  blessing  of  the  poor,  the 
regale  of  the  temperate  rich,  and  the  deli- 
cious gust  of  the  plainest  morsel.  Cursed 
is  the  man  that  has  turned  thee  out-of- 
doors,  and  at  whose  table  thou  art  a 
stranger !  Yea,  thrice  cursed  is  he,  who 
always  thirsts,  and  hungers  no  more!" 
Poverty,  or  rather  indifference  to  worldly 
wealth,  is  that  which  Renan  claims  to  have 
most  faithfully  practiced.  "  My  dream,"  Kenan* 
he  says,  "would  be  to  be  lodged,  fed, 
clothed,  and  warmed,  without  having  to  be- 
stow a  thought  about  it,  by  somebody  who 
would  take  me  by  contract  and  leave  me 
to  do  what  I  pleased."  Phasdrus  relates,  in 
one  of  his  fables,  that  when  Hercules  was 
received  into  heaven,  and  was  saluting  the 
gods  who  thronged  around  with  their  con- 
gratulations, he  turned  away  his  look  when 
Plutus  drew  near,  assigning  as  a  reason  for 
this  to  Jupiter,  who  inquired  the  cause  of 
his  strange  conduct,  that  he  hated  Plutus  %£ci/fu 
because  he  was  a  friend  to  the  bad  ;  and, 
besides,  corrupted  both  good  and  bad  with 
his  gifts.  As  to  low  living  and  high  think- 
ing, so  often  extolled  by  the  philosophers 


250  In  a  Club  Corner 

—  a  careless  concern  for  the  things  of  this 
world  and  a  pitch  of  excellence  sublimely 
superhuman  —  they  are  not  without  their 
provoking  inconveniences  and  melancholy 
effects,  as  examples  prove.  Cardell  Good- 
man  and  Benjamin  Griffin,  both  good  ac- 
tors long  after  Shakespeare,  shared,  we  are 
told,  the  same  bed  in  their  modest  lodging, 
and  having  but  one  shirt  between  them, 
wore  it  each  in  his  turn.  The  only  dis- 
sension which  ever  occurred  between  them 
was  caused  by  Goodman,  who,  having  to 
pay  a  visit  to  a  lady,  clapped  on  the  shirt 
when  it  was  clean,  and  Griffin's  day  for 
wearing  it !  "  Edgar  A.  Poe  I  remember 
seeing  on  a  single  occasion,"  writes  the 
author  of  Memories  of  Many  Men  and  Some 
Women.  "  He  announced  a  lecture  to  be 
delivered  at  the  Society  Library  building 
on  Broadway,  under  the  title  of  The  Uni- 
verse.  It  was  a  stormy  night,  and  there 
were  not  more  than  sixty  persons  present 
in  the  lecture-room.  I  have  seen  no  por- 
trait of  Poe  that  does  justice  to  his  pale, 
delicate,  intellectual  face  and  magnificent 
eyes.  His  lecture  was  a  rhapsody  of  the 
most  intense  brilliancy.  He  appeared  in- 
spired, and  his  inspiration  affected  the 
scant  audience  almost  painfully.  He  wore 


(n  a  Club  Corner  251 

his  coat  tightly  buttoned  across  his  slender 
chest;  his  eyes  seemed  to  glow  like  those  n^eye, 
of  his  own  raven,  and  he  kept  us  entranced  f/f^w* 
for  two  hours  and  a  half.  The  late  Mr. 
Putnam,  the  publisher,  told  me  that  the 
next  day  the  wayward,  luckless  poet  pre- 
sented himself  to  him  with  the  manuscript 
of  The  Universe.  He  told  Putnam  that 
in  it  he  solved  the  whole  problem  of  life  ; 
that  it  would  immortalize  its  publisher  as 
well  as  its  author  ;  and,  what  was  of  less 
consequence,  that  it  would  bring  to  him  the 
fortune  which  he  had  so  long  and  so  vainly 
been  seeking.  Mr.  Putnam,  while  an  ad- 
mirer of  genius,  was  also  a  cool,  calculat- 
ing man  of  business.  As  such,  he  could 
not  see  the  matter  in  exactly  the  same 
light  as  the  poet  did,  and  the  only  result  of 
the  interview  was  that  he  lent  Poe  a  shil- 
ling to  take  him  home  to  Fordham,  where 
he  then  resided." 

Readers  of  Dickens  will  remember  DIGESTION. 
Georgiana  Pocket  —  a  cousin  of  Miss 
Havisham's  —  an  indigestive  single  woman, 
who  called  her  rigidity  religion,  and  her 
liver  love.  It  is  Emerson,  I  believe,  who 
speaks  of  brains  paralyzed  by  stomach. 
He  says  also  that  he  knew  a  witty  phy- 


252  In  a  dub  Corner 

sician  who  found  the  creed  in  the  biliary 
duct,  and  used  to  affirm  that  if  there  was 
Tktiwer.     disease  in  the  liver,  the   man   became   a 
Calvinist,  and  if  that  organ  was  sound,  he 
became  a  Unitarian.     "  Much  wisdom  in 
olives,"  said   Sancho   Panza.     "Soup  and 
fish,"  in  the  judgment  of  Sydney  Smith, 
"  explain  half  of  the  emotions  of  life."   You 
remember  the  account  Swedenborg  has  left 
us   of   his   first   vision :    "  I   had   eaten   a 
hearty  supper,  perhaps  too  hearty :  and  I 
was   sitting  alone   in   my   chair,    when  a 
A  bright      bright  being  suddenly  appeared  to  me,  and 
af^Lreti     said,  *  Swedenborg,  why  hast   thou   eaten 
tor™    '    too  much  ? ' "     Voltaire  was  ashamed  of 
his  indigestion.     He  wrote  to  Madame  de 
Bernieres,  "  I  am  ashamed  to  present  my- 
self to  my  friends  with  a  weak  digestion 
and  a  downcast  mind.     I  wish  to  give  you 
only  my  beautiful  days,  and  to  suffer  in- 
cognito."    Rumford,  it  is  said,  proposed  to 
Rumforf*    the  elector  of  Bavaria  a  scheme  for  feeding 

tchftnt. 

his  soldiers  at  a  much  cheaper  rate  than 
formerly.  His  plan  was  simply  to  compel 
them  to  masticate  their  food  thoroughly. 
A  small  quantity,  thus  eaten,  would,  ac- 
cording to  that  famous  projector,  afford 
more  sustenance  than  a  large  meal  hastily 
devoured.  "  I  do  not  know,"  remarks  Ma- 


In  a  Club  Corner  253 

caulay,  "how  Rumford's  proposition  was 
received;  but  to  the  mind,  I  believe,  it 
will  be  found  more  nutritious  to  digest  a 
page  than  to  devour  a  volume." 

Montenegro  has  hardly  any  plains.  The  HEROISM 
limestone  ridges  of  the  Dinaric  Alps  which 
traverse  it,  occasionally  diversified  by  lofty 
peaks,  are  so  rugged  and  rocky  that  the 
people  have  the  common  saying  :  "  When 
God  was  in  the  act  of  distributing  stones 
over  the  earth,  the  bag  that  held  them 
burst,  and  let  them  all  fall  upon  Monte- 
negro." Death  in  battle  is  regarded  by 
them  as  natural  death,  but  death  in  bed  as 
something  apart  from  nature.  The  women, 
we  are  told,  have  the  same  passionate  at- 
tachment with  the  men  to  family  and  coun- 
try, and  display  much  of  the  same  valor. 
Gladstone  has  given  two  most  remarkable 
examples,  supplied  by  Goptchevitch.  A 


sister  and  four  brothers,  the  four  of  course  °f 
all  armed,  are  making  a  pilgrimage  or 
excursion  to  a  church.  The  state  of  war 
with  the  Turk  being  normal,  we  need  not 
wonder  when  we  learn  that  they  are  at- 
tacked unawares  on  their  way,  in  a  pass 
where  they  proceed  in  single  file,  by  seven 
armed  Turks  ;  who  announce  themselves 


254  I"  &  Club  Corner 

by  shooting  dead  the  first  of  the  brothers, 
and  dangerously  wounding  the  second. 

sZf1^"**   ^6  OC^S  are  ^ear^u^»  but  tne  fi»nt  proceeds. 

Jc/edspr<>'  ^ne  wounded  man  leans  against  the  rock, 
and  though  he  receives  another  and  fatal 
shot,  kills  two  of  the  Turks  before  he  dies. 
The  sister  presses  forward,  and  grasps  his 
rifle  and  his  dagger.  At  last  all  are  killed 
on  both  sides,  excepting  herself  and  a 
single  Turk.  She  asks  for  mercy  ;  and  he 
promises  it,  but  names  her  maidenly  honor 
as  the  price.  Indignant,  and  perceiving 
that  now  he  is  off  his  guard,  she  stabs  him 
with  the  dagger.  He  tears  it  from  her 
hand,  they  close,  and  she  dashes  the  wretch 
over  the  precipice  into  the  yawning  depth 
below.  The  second  instance  is  quite  as 
remarkable.  Tidings  reach  a  Montenegrin 
wife  that  her  husband  has  just  been  slain 
by  a  party  under  the  command  of  a  certain 
Turkish  officer.  Knowing  the  road  by 
which  they  are  traveling,  she  seizes  a  rifle, 
chooses  her  position,  and  shoots  the  officer 
dead.  The  rest  of  the  party  take  to  flight. 
The  wife  of  the  dead  Turk  sends  the  Mon- 
tenegr^n  wi(jow  an  epistle.  "  Thou  hast 
robbed  me  of  both  my  eyes.  Thou  art  a 
genuine  daughter  of  Tscernagora.  Come 
to-morrow  alone  to  the  border-line,  and 


In  a  Club  Corner  255 

we  will  prove  by  trial  which  was  the  bet- 
ter wife."  The  Tscernagorine  appeared, 
equipped  with  the  arms  of  the  dead  Turkish 
officer,  and  alone,  as  she  was  invited.  But 
the  Turkish  woman  had  thought  prudence 
the  better  part  of  valor,  and  brought  an 
armed  champion  with  her,  who  charged 
her  on  horseback.  She  shot  him  dead  as 
he  advanced,  and  seizing  her  faithless  an- 
tagonist, bound  her  and  took  her  home, 
kept  her  as  a  nurse-maid  for  fourteen  years, 
and  then  let  her  go  back  to  her  place  and 
people. 

It  is  a  maxim,  that  character  and  destiny  CHARAO 
are  the  same  thing.     "  Be  what  you  were 
meant  to  be,"  said  one  of  the  Concord  phi- 
losophers.     "You    may  go   through   the 
world  an  oddity,  to  your  own  merriment  at 
least,  if  not  that  of  your  contemporaries. 
Character  is  a  fact,  and  that  is  much  in  a 
world  of  pretense  and  concession.     Char- 
acter, not  accomplishments,  but  character 
personally  controlling  these,  does  the  work. 
Manners  carry  the  world  for  the  moment,  Manners/** 
character  for  all  times.    Your  real  influence  chapter 
is  measured  by  your  treatment  of  yourself.  «£«. 
First  find  the  man  in  yourself  if  you  will 
inspire  manliness  in  others.     Like  begets 


256  In  a  Club  Corner 

like  the  world  over."  "Take  the  place 
and  attitude,"  says  Emerson,  "  which  be- 
long to  you,  and  all  men  acquiesce.  The 

The  world  world  must  be  just.  It  leaves  every  man 
*'  with  profound  unconcern,  to  set  his  own 
rate."  Schiller,  in  Wallenstein,  affirms 
that  "  Every  man  stamps  his  value  on  him- 
self. The  price  we  challenge  for  ourselves 
is  given  us.  There  does  not  live  on  earth 
the  man,  be  his  station  what  it  may,  that 
I  despise  myself  compared  with  him.  Man 
is  made  great  or  little  by  his  own  will." 
Thoreau  insists,  in  his  vigorous  way,  that 
"  Every  man  should  stand  for  a  force  which 
is  perfectly  irresistible.  How  can  any  man 
be  weak  who  dares  to  be  at  all  ?  Even  the 
tenderest  plants  force  their  way  up  through 
the  hardest  earth,  and  the  crevices  of  rocks  ; 
but  a  man  no  material  power  can  resist. 
What  a  wedge,  what  a  beetle,  what  a  cata- 
pult, is  an  earnest  man  !  What  can  resist 

Yet  we  war  him  ?  "     Yet,  says  Mill,  "  It  is  individuality 

-  J 

that  we  war  against  :  we  should  think  we 
had  done  wonders  if  we  had  made  ourselves 
all  alike  ;  forgetting  that  the  unlikeness  of 
one  person  to  another  is  generally  the  first 
thing  which  draws  the  attention  of  either 
to  the  imperfection  of  his  own  type,  and 
the  superiority  of  another,  or  the  possi- 


ainst 


in  a  Club  Corner  257 

bility,  by  combining  the  advantages  of 
both,  of  producing  something  better  than 
either."  "Common  natures,"  said  Lamb, 
"  do  not  suffice  me.  Good  people,  as  they 
are  called,  won't  serve  me.  I  want  indi- 
viduals. I  am  made  up  of  queer  points, 
and  I  want  so  many  answering  needles." 
Of  self-development,  Maudsley  says,  there 
is  hardly  any  one  who  sets  it  before  him- 
self as  an  aim  in  life.  "  The  question  to 
be  entertained  and  decided  at  the  outset 
will  be,  whether  this  aim  shall  be  internal 
or  external — whether  the  individual  shall 
seek  first  the  completest  development  of 
which  his  nature  is  capable,  other  gains, 
such  as  riches,  reputation,  power,  being 
allowed  to  fall  to  him  by  the  way ;  or 
whether  he  shall  seek  worldly  success, 
the  formation  of  character  being  allowed 
to  be  a  secondary  and  incidental  matter  ? 
The  formation  of  character  in  which  the  Formation 
thoughts,  feelings,  and  actions  are  under 
the  habitual  guidance  of  a  well  fashioned 
will,  is  perhaps  the  hardest  task  in  the 
world,  being,  when  accomplished,  the  high- 
est effort  of  self-development.  It  repre- 
sents the  attainment  by  conscious  method 
of  a  harmony  of  the  individual  nature  in 
itself,  and  of  the  completest  harmony  be- 


258  In  a  Club  Corner 

tween  man  and  nature ;  a  condition  in 
which  the  individual  has  succeeded  in 
making  the  best  of  himself,  of  the  human 
nature  with  which  he  has  to  do,  and  of  the 
world  in  which  he  moves  and  has  his 
being."  Froude  says,  writing  of  Cicero, 

Manner  and  "  A  man's  own  manner  and  character  is 
what  best  becomes  him."  "In  Carlyle  as 
in  Byron,"  said  Emerson,  "  one  is  more 
struck  with  the  rhetoric  than  with  the 
matter.  He  has  manly  superiority  rather 
than  intellectuality,  and  so  makes  good  hits 
all  the  time.  There  is  more  character 
than  intellect  in  every  sentence,  herein 
strongly  resembling  Samuel  Johnson." 
George  Eliot  wrote  in  her  Diary,  "  I  have 
seen  Emerson — I  have  seen  a  man." 
When  Jenny  Lind  was  in  Boston,  Mr. 
Webster  called  upon  her.  When  he  was 
gone,  she  jumped  up,  walked  the  floor  ex- 
citedly, clasped  her  hands,  and  with  inde- 
scribable earnestness  exclaimed,  "  Oh,  that 
is  a  man  !  that  is  a  man  !  I  never  saw  a 
man  before !  I  never  saw  a  man  before ! " 

Tranquil-  Madame  de  Maintenon  pronounced  tran- 
quillity the  supreme  power.  When  Nelson 
had  finished  his  famous  dispatch  to  the 
Crown  Prince  of  Denmark,  at  the  battle  of 
Copenhagen,  a  wafer  was  given  him  to  seal 


In  a  Club  Corner  259 

it  with  ;  but  he  ordered  a  candle  to  be 
brought  from  the  cock-pit,  and  sealed  the 
letter  with  wax,  affixing  a  larger  seal  than 
he  ordinarily  used.  "This,"  remarked  he, 
"is  no  time  to  appear  hurried  or  informal." 
"I  remember  a  small  Mussulman  boy," 
says  an  officer,  in  his  published  Recollec- 
tions  of  Military  Service  in  India,  "  one  of  c° 
our  servants,  lying  on  the  veranda,  appar- 
ently asleep,  when,  to  our  horror,  we  saw 
a  cobra  creep  out  of  a  lot  of  boots,  lying 
near,  which  the  boy  had  been  cleaning. 
The  cobra  passed  over  his  face,  and  actu- 
ally darted  his  tongue  in  and  out  of  his 
open  mouth.  The  boy  never  stirred,  and 
we  remarked  how  providential  it  was  that 
he  was  fast  asleep.  The  snake  after  a 
time  glided  off,  when  the  boy  jumped  up, 
and  seized  a  stick,  and  killed  it.  He  had 
been  awake  all  the  time."  Thoreau  asks, 
"  Which  would  have  advanced  the  most  at  't 
the  end  of  a  month, — the  boy  who  had 
made  his  own  jackknife  from  the  ore  which 
he  had  dug  and  smelted,  reading  as  much 
as  would  be  necessary  for  this,  —  or  the 
boy  who  had  attended  the  lectures  on 
metallurgy  at  the  Institute  in  the  mean 
while,  and  had  received  a  Rogers  penknife 
from  his  father  ?  Which  would  be  most 


260  In  a  Club  Corner 

likely  to  cut  his  fingers  ? "  Character  and 
powers,  early  and  late,  do  not  much  vary. 
The  inspiration  of  purpose,  and  work,  very 
soon  establish  personality.  Can  any  man 
remember  when  the  radically  distinguish- 
ing things  he  stands  for  first  took  root 
within  him  ?  Nathaniel  Hawthorne,  when 
he  was  sixteen  years  old,  sent  forth,  we 
are  told,  the  first  number  of  The  Spectator, 
a  small  but  neatly  printed  and  well  edited 
paper.  A  prospectus  had  been  issued  only 
the  week  before,  setting  forth  that  The 
Spectator  would  be  issued  on  Wednesdays, 
"price  twelve  cents  per  annum,  payment 
to  be  made  at  the  end  of  the  year." 
Among  the  advertisements  on  the  last 
page  was  this :  "  Nathaniel  Hawthorne 
proposes  to  publish,  by  subscription,  a  neat 
edition  of  The  Miseries  of  Authors,  to 
which  will  be  added  a  sequel  containing 
facts  and  remarks  drawn  from  his  own  ex- 
perience." The  Hawthorne  of  The  Scarlet 
Letter  already  existed.  An  oration  de- 
livered  by  Daniel  Webster  July  4,  1802,  — 
then  twenty  years  old,  and  principal  of 
Fryeburg  Academy,  —  was  recently  dis- 
covered in  a  mass  of  the  author's  private 
papers  which  had  found  their  way  into  a 
junk  shop.  The  last  speech  made  by  Mr. 


In  a  Club  Corner  261 

Webster  in  the  Senate  of  the  United 
States,  July  17,  1850,  concluded  with  the 
same  peroration  with  which  he  closed  the 
Fryeburg  oration,  forty-eight  years  before ! 
I  like  to  repeat  the  words  that  young 
Thomas  Carlyle  wrote  to  his  brother,  nine 
years  after  he  had  left  the  University  of 
Edinburgh  as  a  student,  forty-three  years 
before  he  returned  as  its  rector.  "  I  say, 
Jack,  thou  and  I  must  never  falter.  Work, 
my  boy,  work  unweariedly.  I  swear  that 
all  the  thousand  miseries  of  this  hard  fight, 
and  ill-health,  the  most  terrific  of  them  all, 
shall  never  chain  us  down.  By  the  river 
Styx  it  shall  not.  Two  fellows  from  a 
nameless  spot  in  Annandale  shall  yet  show 
the  world  the  pluck  that  is  in  the  Carlyles." 
That  mighty  hater  and  smiter  of  cant  and 
shams  was  of  good  Scotch  stock,  and  had 
been  generously  brought  up  on  good  air, 
simple  food,  and  sound  instruction.  The 
qualities  that  he  had  inherited  and  scrupu- 
lously cultivated  were  genuine,  and  of  the 
highest  manhood.  The  "pith  o'  sense," 
and  "  pride  o'  worth,"  and  books,  made  him 
so  much  a  man,  and  so  different  from  other 
men,  that  independence  was  necessary  to 

t   •  -ret  1_  1    e      1  1 

him.  If  he  was  to  be  a  man,  and  fight  the 
battle  of  life  on  his  own  ground,  it  must 


262  In  a  Club  Corner 

be  his,  without  any  question  of  title.  Be- 
lieving  that  in  the  hour  in  which  a  man 
"mortgages  himself  to  two,  or  ten,  or 
twenty,  he  dwarfs  himself  below  the  stat- 
ure of  one;"  and  being  determined  that 
he  would  not  be  "  cramped  and  diminished 
The  desire  of  his  proportions,"  the  desire,  not  for 
riot -within  riches,  but  for  independence,  took  deep 
root  within  him.  He  felt  that  he  had 
much  to  say  in  this  world,  and  would  say 
it,  without  favor  or  fear.  It  is  true,  as  a 
quaint  old  writer  puts  it,  that  the  greatest 
part  of  our  felicity  is  to  be  well-born  —  of 
parents,  in  other  words,  of  sound  bodies, 
sound  minds,  and  correct  principles,  and 
to  inherit  the  same.  Especially,  if  it  be 
true,  as  Hazlitt  asserts,  that  "  no  one  ever 
changes  his  character  from  the  time  he  is 
two  years  old  ;  nay,  from  the  time  he  is 
two  hours  old.  We  may,  with  instruction 
and  opportunity,  mend  our  manners,  or 
else  alter  them  for  the  worse,  'as  the  flesh 
or  fortune  shall  serve  ; '  but  the  character, 
Tkeintenuu  the  internal  original  bias  remains  always 
«£'  the  same,  true  to  itself  to  the  very  last  — 
'and  feels  the  ruling  passion  strong  in 
death.'  The  color  of  our  lives  is  woven 
into  the  fatal  thread  at  our  births  ;  our 
original  sins  and  our  redeeming  graces 


In  a  Club  Corner  26) 

are  infused  into  us ;  nor  is  the  bond,  that 
confirms  our  destiny,  ever  canceled."  In-  inheritance 
heritance  is  fate.  The  stuff  of  manhood 
in  Daniel  Webster,  when  he  was  briefless 
and  penniless,  led  him  to  decline  a  clerk- 
ship of  two  thousand  a  year — feeling  it 
to  be  his  mission  "  to  make  opinions  for 
other  men  to  record,  and  not  to  be  the 
clerk  to  record  the  opinions  of  courts."  It 
is  related  that  when  he,  in  attacking  a  legal 
proposition  of  an  opponent  at  the  bar,  was 
reminded  that  he  was  assailing  a  dictum 
of  Lord  Camden,  he  turned  to  the  court, 
and  after  paying  a  tribute  to  Camden's 
greatness,  as  a  jurist,  simply  added,  "  But, 
may  it  please  your  Honor,  I  differ  from 
Lord  Camden."  It  is  evident  that  such 
self-assertion  would  have  been  ridiculous 
had  not  the  character  of  the  man  relieved 
it  from  all  essential  pretension.  Judge 
Story,  on  the  evening  previous  to  the  de- 
livery of  the  great  speech  in  reply  to  Hayne,  Reply  to 
called  on  Mr.  Webster,  and,  after  expressing  Hayne' 
some  anxiety  as  to  the  result  of  the  debate, 
offered  to  aid  him  in  looking  up  materials. 
Mr.  Webster  thanked  him,  and  said,  "  Give 
yourself  no  uneasiness,  Judge  Story  ;  I  will 
grind  him  as  fine  as  a  pinch  of  snuff."  It 
is  said  that  when  Thorwaldsen,  the  Danish 


264  In  a  Club  Corner 

sculptor,  saw  Webster's  head  in  Powers' 
tsig*  studio  in  Rome,  he  exclaimed,  "  Ah  !  a  de- 
jitter  Jupiter,  I  see  !  "  He  would  not 


believe  that  it  was  a  living  American. 
Theodore  Parker  describes  him  as  "  a  man 
of  large  mould,  a  great  body  and  a  great 
brain.  Since  Socrates  there  has  seldom 
been  a  head  so  massive,  so  huge.  Its 
cubic  capacity  surpassed  all  former  meas- 
urements of  mind.  A  large  man,  decorous 
1  in  dress,  dignified  in  deportment,  he  walked 
as  if  he  felt  himself  a  king.  Men  from  the 
country,  who  knew  him  not,  stared  at  him 
as  he  passed  through  Boston  streets.  The 
coal-heavers  and  porters  of  London  looked 
on  him  as  one  of  the  great  forces  of  the 
A  native  globe.  They  recognized  in  him  a  native 
king."  Carlyle,  in  a  letter  to  Emerson, 
called  him  a  magnificent  specimen  ;  "  as 
a  logic-fencer,  advocate,  or  parliamentary 
Hercules,  one  would  incline  to  back  him 
at  first  sight  against  all  the  extant  world." 
Sydney  Smith  pronounced  him  "a  living 
lie  ;  because  no  man  on  earth  could  be  as 
great  as  he  looked."  An  eminent  contem- 
porary has  written  :  "  There  was  a  certain 
grandeur  in  Webster's  look  which  was  in- 
comparable. His  Olympian  presence  gave 
an  air  of  significance  and  dignity  to  what- 


In  a  Club  Corner  265 

ever  he  said.  I  have  heard  him  deliver  the 
most  astonishing  commonplaces  in  such  a  Effect  of 
way  that  the  audience  seemed  to  be  listen-  oiymjLn 
ing  to  a  new  revelation  of  great  truths."  pre* 
Hawthorne,  after  viewing  Powers'  colossal 
statue  of  Webster,  wrote  in  his  Note-Book : 
"There  is  an  expression  of  quiet,  solid, 
massive  strength  in  the  whole  figure;  a 
deep  pervading  energy,  in  which  any  ex- 
aggeration of  gesture  would  lessen  and 
lower  the  effect.  He  looks  really  like  a 
pillar  of  the  state.  The  face  is  very  grand, 
very  Webster ;  stern  and  awful,  because 
he  is  in  the  act  of  meeting  a  great  crisis, 
and  yet  with  the  warmth  of  a  great  heart 
glowing  through  it.  Happy  is  Webster  to 
have  been  so  truly  and  adequately  sculp- 
tured ;  happy  the  sculptor  in  such  a  subject, 
which  no  idealization  of  a  demigod  could 
have  supplied  him  with.  Perhaps  the 
statue  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea  will  be  cast 
up  in  some  future  age,  when  the  present 
race  of  man  is  forgotten,  and  if  so,  that  far 
posterity  will  look  up  to  us  as  a  grander 
race  than  we  find  ourselves  to  be."  What  a  what  a. 
thing  to  be  a  man  !  Who,  worth  his  bread,  mS»i 
has  not  aspired  to  recognized  manhood 
and  absolute  personal  freedom  ?  "  But 
that  I  love  the  gentle  Desdemona,  I 
would  not,"  said  Othello,  "my  unhoused, 


266  In  a  Club  Corner 

free  condition  put  into  circumscription  and 
confine  for  the  sea's  worth."  He  has  been 
decided  a  lucky  fox  that  left  his  tail  in  the 
trap.  The  muskrat,  observed  Thoreau, 
would  gnaw  his  third  leg  off  to  be  free. 
The  human  race,  its  whole  history  proves, 
struggle  prefers  struggle  to  dependence,  as  horses 
£$%£  prefer  the  wild  plain  to  the  stall.  There 
is  a  remarkable  bird  called  the  Quetzal  — 
a  native  of  Guatemala  —  a  curious  creature 
—  resembling  a  parrot,  and  is  so  constituted 
that  if  but  one  of  its  feathers  is  plucked  it 
instantly  dies.  If  an  attempt  is  made  to 
cage  this  strange  feathered  visitant,  it  de- 
liberately attempts  suicide  by  pulling  out 
its  own  feathers,  preferring  death  to  cap- 
tivity. One  of  these  birds  was  shown  at  the 
New  Orleans  Exhibition  in  the  winter  of 
ptntionto  1884-5.  Fenelon  wrote,  in  a  letter  to  one 
Of?i££s  of  his  friends,  "  It  is  only  upon  a  very  small 
number  of  true  friends  that  I  count,  and  I 
do  it  not  from  motives  of  interest,  but  from 
pure  esteem  ;  not  from  a  desire  to  derive 
any  advantage  from  them,  but  to  do  them 
justice  in  not  distrusting  their  affection. 
I  would  like  to  oblige  the  whole  human 
race,  especially  virtuous  people  ;  but  there 
is  scarcely  anybody  to  whom  I  would  like 
to  be  under  obligation.  Is  it  through 


In  a  Club  Corner  267 

haughtiness  and  pride  that  I  think  thus  ? 
Nothing  could  be  more  foolish  and  more 
unbecoming ;  but  I  have  learned  to  know 
men  as  I  have  grown  old,  and  believe  that 
it  is  the  best  way  to  do  without  them, 
without  pretending  to  superior  wisdom." 
Pope  Clement  the  Sixth  offered  to  Petrarch 
not  only  the  office  of  Apostolic  Secretary, 
but  many  considerable  bishoprics.  Petrarch 
constantly  refused  them.  "You  will  not 
accept  of  anything  I  offer  you ! "  said  the 
Holy  Father:  "Ask  of  me  what  you 
please."  Two  months  afterwards  Petrarch 
wrote  to  one  of  his  friends :  "  Every  degree 
of  elevation  creates  new  suspicions  in  my 
mind,  because  I  perceive  the  misfortunes 
that  attend  them.  Would  they  but  grant 
me  that  happy  mediocrity  so  preferable  to 
gold,  and  which  they  have  promised  me,  I  to  gold. 
should  accept  the  gift  with  gratitude  and 
cordiality  ;  but  if  they  only  intend  to  invest 
me  with  some  important  employment,  I 
should  refuse  it.  I  will  shake  off  the  yoke ; 
for  I  had  much  rather  live  poor  than  be- 
come a  slave." 

"  Uncle,"  said   Walter   Gay  to  Captain  THE  H 
Cuttle,  gayly,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  old 
man's  shoulder,    "  what  shall  I  send  you 


268  In  a  Club  Corner 

home  from  Barbados  ? "  "  Hope,  my  dear 
Wally.  Hope  .  .  .  Send  me  as  much  of 
that  as  you  can."  How  short  would  life 
be  if  hope  did  not  prolong  it,  is  an  Arabic 
maxim.  Alas,  in  the  Tamil  language  (it 
Novwrd  is  said)  there  is  no  word  for  it.  "Hast 
*" "'  thou  hope  ?  "  they  asked  of  John  Knox 
when  dying.  He  said  nothing,  but  raised 
his  finger  and  pointed  upwards.  Lamar- 
tine,  in  Raphael,  says  of  one  of  his  char- 
acters :  "  There  was  but  one  thing  grieved 
me  as  I  looked  at  him  —  it  was,  to  see  him 
advancing  towards  death  without  believing 
in  immortality.  The  natural  sciences  that 
he  had  so  deeply  studied  had  accustomed 
his  mind  to  trust  exclusively  to  the  evi- 
dence of  his  senses.  Nothing  existed  for 
him  that  was  not  palpable  ;  what  could  not 
be  calculated  contained  no  element  of  cer- 
titude in  his  eyes  ;  matter  and  figures  com- 
posed his  universe  ;  numbers  were  his  god ; 
the  phenomena  of  nature  were  his  revela- 
tions ;  nature  being  his  Bible  and  his  gos- 
pel ;  his  virtue  was  instinct  —  not  seeing 
that  numbers,  phenomena,  nature,  and  vir- 
HUro-  tue  are  but  hieroglyphs  inscribed  on  the 
veil  of  the  temple,  whose  unanimous  mean- 
ing is  —  Deity.  Sublime  but  stubborn 
minds,  who  wonderfully  ascend  the  steps 


In  a  Club  Corner  269 

of  science,  one  by  one,  —  but  will  never 
pass  the  last,  which  leads  to  God."  It  is 
now  a  good  many  years  since  I  found  my- 
self walking  on  a  solitary  country  road  on  a. 


with  a  scientist  of  considerable  distinction,  'c 
It  was,  I  think,  late  in  December.  The  ™ 
mercury  was  many  degrees  below  freezing. 
It  was  with  the  utmost  difficulty  that  we 
escaped  suffering  by  rapid  walking.  A 
deep  snow  covered  everything.  The  road, 
even,  was  white  like  the  fields,  and  the 
crushed  crystals  under  our  feet  gave  the 
accustomed  resentful  complaint.  The 
cloudless  expanse  of  heaven  seemed  colder 
than  the  earth  beneath  —  a  very  firmament 
of  pellucid  ice.  Some  winter  birds,  we  ob- 
served, had  bunched  themselves  on  twigs, 
and  were  as  motionless  and  still  as  if  they 
had  grown  there.  The  only  creature  on 
the  wing  was  a  lustrous  great  crow,  which 
flew  uncertainly,  as  if  lost  or  bewildered. 
Its  plumage  had  a  supernatural  icy  glitter. 
No  sound  was  distinctly  audible  but  of  our 
own  voices,  and  of  the  snow  under  our  feet, 
except  the  pitiful  wail  of  an  infant,  as  it 
came  to  us  appealingly  over  the  frozen 
fields.  Arctic  as  could  be  was  everything  Arctic  -WM 

.  .      ,  .  ,  ,       ,         everything. 

—  above,  below,  on  every  side  —  and  the 
scene  infixed  itself  ineffaceably  in  my  mem- 


370  In  a  Club  Corner 

ory.  The  conversation  had  become  grave, 
and  the  tendency  to  despairing  views  was 
The  dead  momentarily  increasing.  The  dead  season 
*£%d.H  *  was  in  its  shroud.  The  bitter  experiences 
and  pitiful  limitations  of  life  were  re- 
marked upon,  and  the  infinite  discourage- 
ments to  effort.  The  little  that  we  achieved 
seemed  the  least  that  was  possible.  The 
inevitable  difficulties  of  the  human  lot  were 
so  discouraging  and  obstructive,  if  not 
overwhelming.  So  much  of  the  little  that 
we  know  is  acquired  only  by  suffering  ancj 
blundering.  Our  passions  so  often  commit 
us  to  a  blind  undertaking  of  the  impos- 
sible. In  certain  moods,  it  seemed  the 
most  natural  thing  in  the  world  that  we 
should  view  it  all  as  an  inexplicable  enigma, 
and  ourselves  as  an  insignificant  part  of  it. 
The  hope  of  a  better  condition  seemed  to 
me  the  only  inspiration  to  carry  us  through 
this.  In  the  logic  of  things,  to  say  nothing 
of  Scripture,  there  must  be  something 
better.  It  is  not  natural  to  die  in  infancy  ; 
and  what  could  be  much  more  immature 
Thisbuta.  than  the  wisest  human  being  ?  This  must 
ginning.  ^e  ^^  a  beginning.  It  must  be  that  here 
we  only  begin  to  be  what  we  are  to  be. 
Would  a  wise  man,  as  we  understand  wis- 
dom, arrange  a  vast  scheme  of  difficulty 


In  a  Club  Corner  277 

and  suffering,  with  nothing  worthily  com- 
pensating to  come  of  it  ?     A  brighter  day  A  brighter 
will   succeed   the   darkness,  and  a  better  succeeds 

.         .  darkness. 

and  perpetual  growth  have  a  beginning,  as 
the  bursting  and  rejoicing  spring  with  its 
revivifying  sunshine,  its  green  mantle,  its 
roses,  its  song,  will  follow  the  dishearten- 
ing winter, — to  bloom  in  the  never-end- 
ing procession  —  the  everlasting  progress 
of  nature.  Simonides  was  right,  I  think, 
in  calling  the  human  skull  the  shell  of  the 
flown  bird.  "  Infatuation  !  credulity  !  Par- 
don me!"  exclaimed  the  scientist,  as  we 
turned  about,  stopped,  and  faced  each  other 
on  the  bleak  road.  "Your  view  is  the 
popular  one,  I  admit,  and  I  do  not  antag- 
onize it ;  but  mine  is  the  opposite —  a  con- 
clusion founded  in  reason,  and  I  can  see  Thescien- 
no  other  which  is  scientific,  logical,  or  ten-  '££ concl" 
able."  "What!"  said  I,  in  astonishment. 
"You  do  not  believe  in  a  perpetuity  of 
existence  ? "  "  I  do  not,  most  assuredly." 
"That  death  ends  all ?"  —  repeating  the 
phrase  interrogatively,  and  looking  him 
doubtingly  in  the  face.  "  Not  the  shadow 
of  a  doubt  of  it."  "Nothing  to  survive 
this  poor  human  body  ? "  "  Nothing  ! " 
was  the  deliberate  reply,  —  with  a  coldness 
and  hopelessness  more  chilling  than  the 


272  In  a  Club  Corner 

frigid  atmosphere  about  us,  and  my  inmost 
soul — the  immortal  thinking  and  hoping 
part  of  me  —  in  every  faculty  and  quality 
of  it  —  shivered  at  the  bold  scientist's  con- 
clusion. The  little  unmistakable,  almost 
inaudible  cough  that  the  doomed  man  had 
been  fighting  on  the  way,  with  drops  and 
lozenges,  seemed  feebly  to  echo  or  mock 
the  irreversible  dictum,  and  kept  me  la- 
menting the  inconceivable  desolation  of  a 
human  heart  without  a  hope  of  a  future 
Everything  existence.  "  Everything  is  prospective," 
wrote  Emerson,  "  and  man  is  to  live  here- 
after. That  the  world  is  for  his  education 
is  the  only  sane  solution  of  the  enigma. 
We  must  infer  our  destiny  from  the  prepa- 
ration. We  are  driven  by  instinct  to  hive 
innumerable  experiences  which  are  of  no 
visible  value,  and  we  may  revolve  through 
many  lives  before  we  shall  assimilate  or 
exhaust  them.  Shall  I  hold  on  with  both 
hands  to  every  paltry  possession  ?  All  I 
have  seen  teaches  me  to  trust  the  Creator 
for  all  I  have  not  seen.  Whatever  it  be 
which  the  great  Providence  prepares  for 
Something  us,  it  must  be  something  large  and  gener- 
generous.  ous,  and  in  the  great  style  of  his  works. 
The  future  must  be  up  to  the  style  of  our 
faculties,  —  of  memory,  of  hope,  of  imagi- 


In  a  Club  Corner  273 

nation,  of  reason."  "  Certainly,"  quaintly 
reasons  Lord  Herbert  of  Cherbury,  "  since  Reas 
in  my  mother's  womb  this  plastica,  or  for-  "aer 
matrix,  which  formed  my  eyes,  ears,  and 
other  senses,  did  not  intend  them  for  that 
place,  but  as  being  conscious  of  a  better 
life,  made  them  as  fitting  organs  to  ap- 
prehend and  perceive  those  things  which 
should  occur  in  this  world  ;  so  I  believe, 
since  my  coming  into  this  world  my  soul 
hath  formed  or  produced  certain  faculties 
which  are  almost  as  useless  for  this  life  as 
the  above-named  senses  were  for  the  pre- 
existing state  :  —  and  these  faculties  are 
faith,  hope,  love,  and  joy,  since  they  never 
rest  or  fix  upon  any  transitory  or  perishing 
object  in  this  world,  as  extending  them- 
selves to  something  further  than  can  be 
here  given,  and  indeed,  acquiesce  only  in 
the  perfect,  eternal,  and  infinite."  "  We 
forget  nothing,"  uttered  Thackeray.  "  The 
memory  sleeps,  but  wakens  again  ;  I  often 
think  how  it  shall  be,  when,  after  the  last 
sleep  of  death,  the  reveille  shall  arouse  us  The 

r          .  f     after 

forever,  and  the  past  in  one  flash  of  self-  sleep. 
consciousness   rush   back,    like   the   soul, 
revivified."    "  God  himself,"  thought  Haw- 
thorne, "  cannot  compensate  us  for  being 
born  for  any  period  short  of  eternity.     All 


2J4  I*1  a  Club  Corner 

the  misery  endured  here  constitutes  a 
claim  for  another  life,  and  still  more,  all 
the  happiness ;  because  all  true  happiness 
involves  something  more  than  the  earth 
owns,  and  needs  something  more  than  a 
mortal  capacity  for  the  enjoyment  of  it." 
Thependu-  Eternity !  The  pendulum  of  it !  which 
eternity.  "  beats  epochs  as  ours  do  seconds."  The 
magnificence  of  the  professor's  conception, 
that  if  the  fixed  stars  were  annihilated 
we  should  not  be  conscious  of  it  for  many 
years,  spite  of  the  rapidity  with  which 
light  travels,  gives  little  idea  of  duration 
without  end  or  beginning.  "What  have 
we  to  do  with  old  age  ? "  asks  Emerson  of 
Carlyle  in  one  of  his  letters.  "  Our  exist- 
ence looks  to  me  more  than  ever  initial. 
We  have  come  to  see  the  ground  and  look 
up  materials  and  tools.  The  men  who  have 
any  positive  quality  are  a  flying  advance 
party  for  reconnoitring.  We  shall  yet  have 
a  right  work,  and  kings  for  competitors." 

INTUITION  "  The  impossibility  I  find  myself  under 
WORSHIP,  of  proving  there  is  no  God,  is  a  demonstra- 
tion to  me  that  there  is  one,"  is  a  sentence 
of  La  Bruyere.  "  Consult  Zoroaster  and 
Minos  and  Solon,  and  the  sage  Socrates, 
and  the  great  Cicero ;  they  have  all  (says 


In  a  Club  Corner  275 

Voltaire)  adored  a  master,  a  judge,  a  father : 
this  sublime  system  is  necessary  to  man  ;  Adoration 
it  is  the  sacred  bond  of  society,  the  first  'man.ar* 
foundation  of  holy  equity,  the  curb  of  the 
wicked,  the  hope  of  the  just.     If  the  heav- 
ens, despoiled  of  their  augustness,  ceased 
to  manifest  him  ;  if  God  did  not  exist,  it 
would  be  necessary  to  invent  him.    King  ! 
if  you  oppress  me,  if  your  majesty  disdains 
the  tears  of  the  innocent,  my  avenger  is  in 
the  sky  :  learn  to  tremble !  "    Flacourt,  in 
in  his  History  of  the  Island  of  Madagas- 
car, gives  a  sublime  prayer,  used  by  the  A  sublime 
people  we  call  savages  :  "  O  Eternal  !  have  frayer' 
mercy   upon   me,   because   I   am   passing 
away :     O  Infinite  !    because  I  am  but  a 
speck :     O  Most  Mighty !   because  I  am 
weak  :   O  Source  of  Light !  because  I  draw 
nigh   to   the   grave :     O  Omniscient !  be- 
cause I  am  in  darkness  :    O  All-bounteous  ! 
because  I  am  poor :  O  All-sufficient !  be- 
cause I  am  nothing."    Arbousset,  a  French 
missionary  to  South  Africa,    recounts  an 
extraordinary  interview  with  a  Kaffir  chief,  interview 
to  whom  he  was  imparting   the   message  ^Kaffir  Mej 
of  Christianity.     "  Your  tidings,"  said  the 
wild  black  man,  "  are  what  I  want,  and  I 
was   seeking   before  I   knew  you,  as  you 
shall  hear  and  judge  for  yourself.     Twelve 


2j6  In  a  Club  Corner 

years  ago  I  went  to  feed  my  flock.  The 
weather  was  hazy.  I  sat  down  upon  a  rock 
Asked  and  asked  myself  sorrowful  questions  ;  yes, 
so^ow/ui  sorrowful,  because  I  was  unable  to  answer 
them.  Who  has  touched  the  stars  with  his 
hands  ?  The  waters  are  never  weary ;  they 
flow  from  morning  till  night,  from  night 
till  morning.  Who  makes  them  flow  thus  ? 
I  cannot  see  the  wind.  Who  brings  it  ? 
Who  makes  it  blow  and  roar  and  terrify 
me  ?  Do  I  know  how  the  corn  sprouts  ? 
Yesterday  there  was  not  a  blade  in  my 
field  ;  to-day  I  returned  to  the  field  and 
found  some.  Then  I  buried  my  face  in 
both  my  hands."  A  French  scientist 
passed  his  childhood  in  that  period  of  the 
French  Revolution  in  which  religion  was 
proscribed,  the  churches  of  his  province 
shut,  and  sacred  words  forbidden  to  be 
used.  "  Nevertheless,"  he  says,  "  I  remem- 
ber that  the  aspect  of  the  sky  made  me 
dream.  I  always  saw  in  it  something  that 
was  not  of  the  world.  I  searched  there 
above  for  sqmething  I  did  not  see,  but 
The  intui-  whose  existence  I  divined.  Yes,  the  intu- 
d'  ition  of  God  was  within  me."  "  Posterity 
will  perhaps  with  truth  assert,"  thought 
Draper,  "  that  Paradise  Lost  has  wrought 
more  intellectual  evil  than  even  its  base 


In  a  Club  Corner  277 

contemporaries  [the  indecent  plays  of  the 
time],  since  it  has  familiarized  educated 
minds  with  images  which,  though  in  one 
sense  sublime,  in  another  are  most  un- 
worthy, and  has  taught  the  public  a  dread- 
ful materialization  of  the  great  and  invis- 
ible God.  A  Manichean  composition  in  A  M&ni- 
reality,  it  was  mistaken  for  a  Christian  /t^T* 
poem."  "  People  treat  the  divine  name," 
said  Goethe,  "  as  if  that  incomprehensible 
and  most  high  Being,  who  is  even  beyond 
the  reach  of  thought,  were  only  their  equal. 
If  they  were  impressed  by  His  greatness 
they  would  be  dumb,  and  through  vener- 
ation unwilling  to  name  Him."  In  the 
opinion  of  a  great  writer,  "  The  time  will 
come  when  we  will  not  speak  of  God  need- 
lessly but  as  seldom  as  possible.  We  shall 
not  teach  dogmatically  of  his  attributes,  or 
dispute  concerning  his  nature.  We  shall 
not  impose  on  any  one  the  obligation  of 
prayer,  but  allow  each  to  worship  in  the 
sanctuary  of  his  own  conscience.  And  rhesanct 
this  will  happen  when  we  are  truly  reli-  "conscience. 
gious.  Then  we  shall  all  be  so ;  and  the 
attempt  to  establish  a  prescribed  religion 
will  be  regarded  as  blasphemy.  The  love 
which  we  bear  him  will  be  of  an  awful 
nature:  prayer  will  become  mysterious, 


278  In  a  Club  Corner 

and  the  fear  of  being  unworthy  will  silence 
the  pen  of  the  theologian  and  the  preacher." 

FRIEND.  Friendship  is  defined  by  Thoreau  as  the 

unspeakable  joy  and  blessing  that  result  to 
two  or  more  individuals  who  from  consti- 
tution sympathize.  Such  natures  are  liable 
to  no  mistakes,  but  will  know  each  other 
through  thick  and  thin.  Between  two  by 
nature  alike  and  fitted  to  sympathize  there 
is  no  veil,  and  there  can  be  no  obstacle. 
Who  are  the  estranged  ?  Two  friends 
explaining.  It  is  a  saying  of  Apollodorus 
that  when  you  go  to  visit  a  friend  at  his 
house,  you  can  perceive  his  friendliness 
the  moment  you  enter  the  door,  for  first 
the  servant  who  opens  the  door  looks 
pleased,  then  the  dog  wags  its  tail  and 
comes  up  to  you,  and  the  first  person  you 
meet  hands  you  a  chair,  before  a  word  has 
been  said.  Rowland  Hill,  on  one  occasion 
(preaching  to  a  large  congregation  on  men's 
trust  in  the  friendship  of  the  world)  ob- 
served, that  his  own  acquaintances  would 
probably  fill  the  church  ;  and  he  was  quite 
certain  that  his  friends  would  only  fill  the 

Born  pulpit.  Born  friends,  said  Richter,  only 
find  each  other  a  second  time,  and  bring  to 
each  other  not  only  a  future,  but  a  past  also. 


In  a  Club  Corner  279 

In  our  purblind  and  crippled  state,  our 
superstitions  and  prejudices  are  our  most 
convenient  crutches.  The  more  ignorant 
we  are,  the  more  necessary  they  seem  to 
us.  Poor  auxiliaries,  we  may  say,  but  bet- 
ter than  nothing  in  our  many  extremities. 
Something  we  must  have  to  hold  to,  as  we 
feel  our  way  in  the  obscurity  of  our  intel- 
ligence and  reason  ;  and  these  poor  aids 
come  down  to  us  as  a  part  of  the  general 
inheritance  of  ignorance  from  the  genera- 
tions that  groped  before  us.  Our  trans- 
gressions are  as  often  blunders  as  sins. 
The  Japanese  do  not  swear  at  one  another  ; 
they  say  "  Fool  !  "  Cave,  an  under-jailer 
during  the  two  years  Hunt  was  a  prisoner, 
had  become  a  philosopher  by  the  force  of 
his  situation.  He  said  to  the  poet  one 
day,  when  a  new  batch  of  criminals  came 
in,  "  Poor  ignorant  wretches,  sir  J  "  It  is 
a  profound  saying  of  the  Chinese,  that  he 
who  finds  pleasure  in  vice  and  pain  in  vir- 
tue is  a  novice  in  both. 


"There's  no  art  to  find  the  mind's  con-  FACES. 
struction  in  the  face,"  though  we  assume 
to  read  it  as  a  book,  and  to  determine  from 
it  even  the  motives  of  the  heart.     Quin 
presumed  to  say  of  Macklin's  face,  painted 


280  In  a  Club  Corner 

by  Opie,  "  If  God  writes  a  legible  hand, 
that  fellow  is  a  villain."  Daniel  Webster, 
once  when  traveling  alone  in  a  stage-coach, 
was  in  terror  of  the  driver,  judging  him, 
from  his  face,  to  be  a  murderer  ;  the  driver 
at  the  same  time  was  in  like  dread  of  the 
senator,  believing  him,  from  his  counte- 
nance, to  be  a  highwayman.  Luttrell  said 
to  Moore  that  often,  in  speculating  on  the 
future  fortunes  of  the  young  men  with 
whom  he  lived,  he  has  said  to  himself,  in 
looking  at  Wellesley's  (Wellington's)  va- 

face.  cant  face,  "  Well,  let  who  will  get  on  in 
this  world,  you  certainly  will  not."  Sir 
Thomas  Lawrence  told  Barry  Cornwall  of 
his  having  been  taken  once  to  visit  a 
female  of  extreme  beauty.  A  friend  of 
his  wished  him  as  an  artist  to  see,  and  if 
possible  take  a  study  of,  this  woman.  He 
went  accordingly  and  saw  her.  She  was, 
he  said,  most  exquisitely  beautiful,  perhaps 
more  so  than  any  person  he  had  ever  seen  : 
but  the  eye  of  an  artist  is  quick  at  detect- 
ing faults,  and  he  saw  lurking,  among  her 
perfections,  or  rather  peeping  out  from 

A  diabolical  among  them   occasionally,  an   expression 

'•    which  was  diabolical.     He  did  not  like  her. 

Whether  he  took  any  sketch  or  not  he  did 

not   say  ;  but,   he  added,  that  he  learned 


In  a  Club  Corner  281 

afterwards  that  "the  lady"  went  to  live 
with  a  young  man,  whom  she  entirely 
ruined.  When  in  great  distress,  from  her 
extravagance,  she  induced  him  to  commit 
forgery  ;  and  when  he  was  taken  up  for 
the  crime,  she  appeared  and  volunteered 
her  evidence  against  him  ;  and  upon  her 
evidence  he  was  hanged.  "  Portraits  of  Portraits 

—  .      ,         of  Erasmus, 

Erasmus  are  not  uncommon  ;  every  scholar 
would  know  him  (says  Holmes)  in  the  other 
world,  with  the  look  he  wore  on  earth. 
All  the  etchings  and  their  copies  give  a 
characteristic  presentation  of  the  spiritual 
precursor  of  Luther,  who  pricked  the  false 
image  with  his  rapier  which  the  sturdy 
monk  slashed  with  his  broadsword.  What 
a  face  it  is  which  Hans  Holbein  has  handed 
down  to  us  in  this  wonderful  portrait  at 
Longford  Castle !  How  dry  it  is  with 
scholastic  labor,  how  keen  with  shrewd 
skepticism,  how  worldly-wise,  how  con- 
scious of  its  owner's  wide-awake  sagacity  ! 
Erasmus  and  Rabelais,  —  Nature  used  up 
all  her  arrows  for  their  quivers,  and  had  to 
wait  a  hundred  years  more  before  she  could 
find  shafts  enough  for  the  outfit  of  Vol-  Voltaire. 
taire,  leaner  and  keener  than  Erasmus,  and 
almost  as  free  in  his  language  as  the  auda- 
cious creator  of  Gargantua  and  Panta- 


282  In  a  Club  Corner 

gruel."  It  has  been  said  that  had  we  no 
The  Roman  other  histories  of  the  Roman  emperors  but 
those  we  find  on  their  money,  we  should 
take  them  for  the  most  virtuous  race  of 
princes  that  mankind  were  ever  blessed 
with :  whereas,  if  we  look  into  their  lives, 
they  appear  many  of  them  such  monsters 
of  lust  and  cruelty  as  are  almost  a  reproach 
to  human  nature.  Claudius  appears  as 
great  a  conqueror  as  Julius  Caesar,  and 
Domitian  a  wiser  prince  than  his  brother 
Titus.  Tiberius  on  his  coins  is  all  mercy 
and  moderation,  Caligula  and  Nero  are 
fathers  of  their  country,  Galba  the  pattern 
of  public  liberty,  and  Vitellius  the  restorer 
of  the  city  of  Rome.  In  short,  if  you  have 
a  mind  to  see  the  religious  Commodus, 
the  pious  Caracalla,  and  the  devout  Helio- 
gabalus,  you  may  find  them  either  in  the 
inscription  or  device  of  their  medals.  One 
of  the  poets  made  a  study  of  the  busts  of 
the  Roman  emperors,  and  found  them,  on 
char's  the  whole,  interesting.  Julius  Caesar  heads 
face.  them,  with  a  face  traversed  in  all  directions 
with  wrinkles.  He  thought  he  had  never 
beheld  such  a  careworn  countenance.  Such 
was  the  price  he  paid  for  ruling  his  hap- 
pier fellow-creatures.  Nero's  face  it  was 
sad  to  contemplate.  There  is  a  series  of 


In  a  Club  Corner  28) 

busts  of  him  at  different  periods  of  his  life  : 
one,  that  of  a  charming  happy  little  boy ; 
another,  that  of  a  young  man,  growing 
uneasy  ;  and  a  third,  that  of  the  miserable  BU&OS 
tyrant.  You  fancy  that  he  was  thinking  tyrant. 
of  having  killed  his  mother,  and  was  trying 
to  bully  his  conscience  into  no  care  about 
it.  Hogg  described  Shelley,  from  appear- 
ance, as  "a  sum  of  many  contradictions." 
The  Duke  of  Wellington  must  have  found 
something  very  interesting  in  Van  Am- 
burgh's  face,  for  he  had  Landseer  paint  a 
picture  of  the  lion-tamer  for  him.  Upon 
the  artist's  saying,  in  reply  to  the  Duke's 
inquiry,  that  the  price  would  be  six  hun- 
dred guineas,  the  Duke  wrote  out  a  check 
for  twelve  hundred.  Lavater  says  that  the 
character  is  to  be  judged  not  by  the  ex- 
pression, which  is  variable,  but  by  the  firm 
parts  and  the  bony  conformation  of  the 
countenance.  A  friend  of  Emerson's  once 
came  upon  him  while  he  was  sleeping,  and 
was  startled  at  the  stern  character  of  a 
face  which  he  had  known  only  as  radiant 
and  inviting.  It  was  a  new  lesson  of  the 
man,  which  somewhat  modified  his  previ- 
ous impression.  Mr.  T.  A.  Trollope  saw 
much  of  George  Eliot,  and  was  apparently 
intimate  with  her,  for  she  once  said  to  him 


284  In  a  Club  Corner 

in  Florence  that  "  she  regretted  she  had 
been  born,"  an  utterance  which  he  attrib- 
utes entirely  to  ill-health.  His  descrip- 
tion of  her  is  interesting  :  "  She  was  not, 
as  the  world  in  general  is  aware,  a  hand- 
some, or  even  a  personable  woman.  Her 
George  face  was  long  ;  the  eyes  not  large  nor 
face.  beautiful  in  color  —  they  were,  I  think,  of 
a  grayish  blue  —  the  hair,  which  she  wore 
in  old-fashioned  braids  coming  low  down 
on  either  side  of  her  face,  of  a  rather  light 
brown.  It  was  streaked  with  gray  when 
last  I  saw  her.  Her  figure  was  of  middle 
height,  large-boned  and  powerful.  It  was 
often  said  that  she  inherited  from  her 
peasant  ancestors  a  frame  and  constitution 
very  robust.  Her  head  was  finely  formed, 
with  a  noble  and  well-balanced  arch  from 
brow  to  crown.  The  lips  and  mouth  pos- 
sessed a  power  of  infinitely  varied  expres- 
sion. George  Lewes  once  said  to  me  when 
I  made  some  observation  to  the  effect  that 
she  had  a  sweet  face  (I  meant  that  the  face 
expressed  great  sweetness),  'You  might 
say  what  a  sweet  hundred  faces  !  I  look 
at  her  sometimes  in  amazement.  Her 
constantly  countenance  is  constantly  changing.'  The 
said  lips  and  mouth  were  distinctly  sensu- 
ous in  form  and  fullness.  She  has  been 


In  a  Club  Corner  285 

compared  to  the  portraits  of  Savonarola  Savanaroi 
(who  was  frightful)  and  of  Dante  (who, 
though  stern  and  bitter-looking,  was  hand- 
some). Something  there  was  of  both  faces 
in  George  Eliot's  physiognomy.  Lewes 
told  us,  in  her  presence,  of  the  exclamation 
uttered  suddenly  by  some  one  to  whom  she 
was  pointed  out  at  a  place  of  public  en- 
tertainment. '  That,'  said  a  bystander,  '  is 
George  Eliot.'  The  gentleman  to  whom 
she  was  thus  indicated  gave  one  swift, 
searching  look,  and  exclaimed,  sotto  voce, 
'  Dante's  aunt ! '  "  When  Hunt  came  to  "Dante's 
England,  after  an  absence  of  four  years  "" 
abroad,  he  was  grieved  at  the  succession 
of  fair  sulky  faces  which  he  met  in  the 
streets  of  London.  They  all  appeared  to 
come  out  of  unhappy  homes.  "  Talk  of 
Venus  rising  from  the  sea !  "  exclaimed 
Douglas  Jcrrold.  "  Were  I  to  paint  a 
Venus  she  should  be  escaping  from  a  cot-  jerroifs 
tage  window  to  join  her  lover,  with  a  face 
now  white,  now  red,  as  the  roses  nodding 
about  it ;  an  eye  like  her  own  star  ;  lips 
sweetening  the  jasmine,  as  it  clings  to  hold 
them  ;  a  face  and  form  in  which  harmoni- 
ous thoughts  seem  as  vital  breath !  Noth- 
ing but  should  speak  ;  her  little  hand 
should  tell  a  love-tale ;  nay,  her  very  foot 


286  In  a  Club  Corner 

planted  on  the  ladder,  should  utter  elo- 
quence enough  to  stop  a  hermit  at  his 
beads,  and  make  him  watchman  while  the 
lady  fled."  The  pen-and-ink  sketch  of 
Hogarth's  which  was  the  only  guide  of 
^iss  Thomas  in  modeling  the  bust  of 
Fielding,  not  long  ago  unveiled  at  Taun- 
ton,  is  the  subject  of  a  curious  story. 
Hogarth  and  Garrick,  sitting  together  in  a 
tavern  one  day,  were  lamenting  the  fact 
that  Fielding  had  died  without  a  single 
portrait  of  him  having  been  taken.  "I 
think,"  said  Garrick,  "  that  I  could  make 
his  face  ;  "  and  at  once  used  all  his  skill  as 
a  contortionist  to  that  end.  "  For  Heav- 
en's sake,  hold,  David  !  "  cried  Hogarth  ; 
"  remain  as  you  are  for  a  few  minutes." 
Garrick  did  so,  and  Hogarth  sketched  the 
outlines  of  his  face.  The  portrait  was 
afterward  finished  according  to  their  mu- 
tual recollection,  and  was  the  original  not 
only  of  Miss  Thomas's  bust,  but  of  every 
portrait  of  Fielding  now  extant.  On  the 
wall  upstairs,  in  the  private  part  of  a  book- 
seller's establishment  in  Old  Boston,  Eng- 
land, there  hung  (described  by  Hawthorne) 
a  crayon-portrait  of  Sterne,  never  engraved, 
representing  him  as  a  rather  young  man, 
blooming,  and  not  uncomely;  it  was  the 


In  a  Club  Corner  287 

worldly  face  of  a  man  fond  of  pleasure,  but 
without  that  ugly,  keen,  sarcastic,  odd  ex- 
pression that  we  see  in  his  only  engraved 
portrait.  The  picture  is  an  original,  and 
must  needs  be  very  valuable ;  and  we  wish 
it  might  be  prefixed  to  some  new  and  wor- 
thier biography  of  a  writer  whose  character 
the  world  has  always  treated  with  singular 
harshness,  considering  how  much  it  was  to 
him.  There  was  likewise  a  crayon-portrait  Portrait  jf 
of  Sterne's  wife,  looking  so  haughty  and  wife. 
unamiable,  that  the  wonder  is,  not  that  he 
ultimately  left  her,  but  that  he  ever  con- 
trived to  live  a  week  with  such  an  awful 
woman.  George  Eliot,  in  Romola,  delin- 
eates the  face  of  a  traitor.  "A  perfect 
traitor,"  she  says,  "  should  have  a  face 
which  vice  can  write  no  marks  on — lips 
that  will  lie  with  a  dimpled  smile  —  eyes 
of  such  agate-like  brightness  and  depth 
that  no  infamy  can  dull  them  —  cheeks  that 
will  rise  from  a  murder  and  not  look  hag- 
gard." It  is  said  that  Lamb  had  a  head  Lampt 
worthy  of  Aristotle,  with  as  fine  a  heart  as 
ever  beat  in  a  human  bosom,  and  limbs 
very  fragile  to  sustain  it.  There  was  a 
caricature  of  him  sold  in  the  shops,  which 
pretended  to  be  a  likeness.  Procter  went 
into  the  shop  in  a  passion,  and  asked  the 


288  In  a  Club  Corner 

man  what  he  meant  by  putting  forth  such 
a  libel.  The  man  apologized,  and  said  that 
vet™  the  artist  meant  no  offense.  There  never 
%£*?*  was  a  true  portrait  of  Lamb.  In  that  won- 
derful picture  of  Leonardo,  The  Last  Sup- 
per, it  is  fancied  that  the  heads  of  the 
Apostles  are  from  the  men  of  his  own  time, 
but  the  face  of  the  Lord,  by  a  perfect  study 
of  chiaroscuro,  radiates  the  light  upon  the 
groups,  and  claims  the  principal  admiration 
of  the  beholder.  There  is  a  story  that  the 
artist,  having  finished  the  rest,  could  not 
paint  this ;  he  found  it  one  morning  mirac- 
ulously finished. 

HEREDITY.  The  law  of  heredity  is  more  and  more 
being  recognized,  investigated,  and  re- 
garded. The  body,  more  and  more,  is 
being  esteemed  the  tabernacle  of  a  soul, 
and  an  added  sacredness  attached  to  it 
accordingly.  "  There  is  but  one  temple  in 
the  world,"  says  Novalis,  "  and  that  temple 
is  the  body  of  man.  Nothing  is  holier  than 
this  high  form.  Bending  before  men  is  a 
reverence  done  to  this  revelation  in  the 
flesh.  We  touch  Heaven,  when  we  lay  our 
hands  on  a  human  body."  There  is  a  song 
made  in  honor  of  Allan,  the  famous  captain 
of  Clanranald,  who  fell  at  Sherrif-muir. 


In  a  Club  Corner  289 

His  servant,  who  lay  on  the  field  watching 
his  master's  dead  body,  being  asked  next 
day,  who  that  was,  answered,  "  He  was  a 
man  yesterday."  The  grandson  of  Ma-  The  gr 
hornet  was  slain  with  three  and  thirty 
strokes  of  lances  and  swords.  After  they 
had  trampled  on  his  body,  they  carried  his 
head  to  the  castle  of  Cufa,  and  the  inhuman 
governor  struck  him  on  the  mouth  with  a 
cane.  "  Alas ! "  exclaimed  an  aged  Mussul- 
man, "on  these  lips  have  I  seen  the  lips 
of  the  apostle  of  God!"  Johnson  asked 
one  of  his  executors,  a  few  days  before  his 
death,  "  Where  do  you  intend  to  bury  me?" 
He  answered,  "  In  Westminster.  Abbey." 
"Then,"  continued  Johnson,  "if  my  friends 
think  it  worth  while  to  give  me  a  stone,  let  re<t 
it  be  placed  over  me  so  as  to  protect  me." 
"  Bless  not  thyself  only,"  says  the  great 
Sir  Thomas  Browne,  in  Religio  Medici, 
"  that  thou  wast  born  in  Athens ;  but, 
among  thy  multiplied  acknowledgments, 
lift  up  one  hand  to  heaven,  that  thou  wert 
born  of  honest  parents,  that  modesty,  hu- 
mility, and  veracity,  lay  in  the  same  egg, 
and  came  into  the  world  with  thee.  From 
such  foundations  thou  mayest  be  happy  in 
a  virtuous  precocity,  and  make  an  early  and 
long  walk  in  goodness ;  so  mayest  thou 


290  In  a  Club  Corner 

more  naturally  feel  the  contrariety  of  vice 
unto  nature,  and  resist  some  by  the  anti- 
dote of  thy  temper."  Dr.  Young  writes  of 

A  hideous  "That  hideous  sight,  a  naked  human 
heart."  "I  saw,"  says  Leigh  Hunt,  "a 
worse  sight  than  the  heart,  in  a  journey 
which  I  took  in  a  neighboring  county.  It 
was  an  infant,  all  over  sores,  and  cased  in 
steel ;  the  result  of  the  irregularities  of  its 
father ;  and  I  confess  that  I  would  rather 
have  seen  the  heart  of  the  very  father  of 
that  child,  than  I  would  the  child  himself. 
I  am  sure  it  must  have  bled  at  the  sight. 
I  am  sure  there  would  have  been  a  feeling 
of  some  sort  to  vindicate  nature,  granting 
that  up  to  that  moment  the  man  had  been 
a  fool  or  even  a  scoundrel."  An  eminent 
writer  upon  Responsibility  in  Mental  Dis- 
ease remarks,  "When  one  considers  the 

Reckless  reckless  way  in  which  persons,  whatever 
"***'  the  defects  of  their  mental  and  bodily  con- 
stitution, often  get  married,  without  sense 
of  responsibility  for  the  miseries  which 
they  entail  upon  those  who  will  be  the 
heirs  of  their  infirmities,  without  regard,  in 
fact,  to  anything  but  their  own  present 
gratification,  one  is  driven  to  think  either 
that  man  is  not  the  preeminently  reason- 
ing and  moral  animal  which  he  claims  to 


In  a  Club  Corner  291 

be,  or  that  there  is  in  him  an  instinct  which 
is  deeper  than  knowledge.  He  has  per- 
suaded himself,  rightly  or  wrongly,  that  in 
this  case  there  is  in  the  feeling  of  love 
between  the  sexes  something  of  so  sacred 
and  mysterious  a  character  as  to  justify 
disregard  to  consequences  in  marriage,  const- 
We  have  only  to  look  at  the  large  part  ** 
which  love  fills  in  novels,  poetry,  and  paint- 
ing; and  to  consider  what  a  justification 
of  unreason  in  life  it  is  held  to  be,  to  real- 
ize what  a  hold  it  has  on  him  in  his  present 
state  of  development,  and  what  a  repug- 
nance there  would  be  to  quench  its  glow 
by  cold  words  of  reason.  At  bottom,  how- 
ever, there  is  nothing  particularly  holy 
about  it ;  on  the  contrary,  it  is  a  passion 
which  man  shares  with  other  animals ;  and 
when  its  essential  nature  and  function  are 
regarded,  we  shall  nowhere  find  stronger 
evidence  of  a  community  of  nature  between 
man  and  animals.  It  would  not  be  a  very 
absurd  thing  if  an  ingenious  person,  con- 
sidering curiously  what  a  solemn  under-  A  sol 

3 .  .  un 

taking  marriage  is,  and  what  serious  re-  ing. 
sponsibilities  it  entails,  were  to  maintain 
that  men  and  women  should  enter  into  it 
soberly  and   rather  sadly,  under  a   grave 
sense  of   responsibility,   as  upon  an   un- 


292  In  a  Club  Corner 

certain  voyage,  and  should  reserve  their 
Rejoicing*  rejoicings  for  the  journey's  end,  when, 
rested,  having  acted  well  their  parts,  they  might 
fairly  claim  a  nunc  plaudite."  "If  you 
have  seen  the  picture-gallery  of  any  one 
old  family,"  says  Dickens  in  The  Old  Cu- 
riosity Shop,  "  you  will  remember  how  the 
same  face  and  figure  —  often  the  fairest 
and  slightest  of  them  all  —  come  upon  you 
in  different  generations ;  and  how  you  trace 
the  same  sweet  girl  through  a  long  line  of 
portraits  —  never  growing  old  or  changing 
—  the  Good  Angel  of  the  race  —  abiding 
by  them  in  all  reverses  —  redeeming  all 
Education  their  sins."  Education,  in  the  opinion  of 
"tabus?  Ribot,  is  a  sum  of  habits.  "  Compare,"  he 
says,  "the  savage  with  the  accomplished 
gentleman,  and  how  great  is  the  difference. 
The  fact  is  that  six  thousand  years  and 
more  stand  between  the  two.  Many  of  the 
habits  which  we  contract  through  education 
have  cost  the  race  centuries  of  effort.  Ed- 
ucation has  to  fix  in  us  the  results  achieved 
by  hundreds  of  generations.  Millions  of 
men  have  been  needed  to  invent  and  bring 
to  perfection  those  methods  which  develop 
the  body,  cultivate  the  mind,  and  fashion 
the  manners.  We  are  sometimes  amazed 
at  seeing  nations  highly  civilized,  gentle, 


In  a  Club  Coiner  293 

humane,  charitable  in  time  of  peace,  giving 
themselves  up  to  every  excess  as  soon  as 
war  has  broken  out.  The  reason  of  this 
is  that  war,  being  a  return  to  the  savage  what -war 

awakens. 

state,  awakens  the  primitive  nature  of  man, 
as  it  subsisted  prior  to  culture,  and  brings 
it  back  with  all  its  heroic  daring,  its  wor- 
ship of  force,  and  its  boundless  lusts.  In 
China,  when  a  man  has  committed  a  capital 
crime,  a  minute  inquiry  is  first  made  into 
his  physical  condition,  his  temperament, 
his  mental  complexion,  his  prior  acts  ;  nor 
does  the  investigation  stop  at  the  individual 
—  it  is  concerned  with  the  most  incon- 
siderable antecedents  of  the  members  of 
his  family,  and  is  even  carried  back  to  his 
ancestry.  In  the  case  of  high  treason,  or 
when  a  prince  is  assassinated,  the  Chinese 
prescribe  '  that  the  culprit  shall  be  cut  up 
into  ten  thousand  pieces,  and  that  his  sons  sons  and 
and  grandsons  shall  be  put  to  death.' "  In  sp,a"toae"t 
Darwin's  Expression  of  the  Emotions  in 
Man  and  Animals,  there  is  an  authentic 
account  of  a  habit  occurring  in  individuals 
of  three  consecutive  generations.  It  was, 
when  each  lay  fast  asleep  on  his  back  in 
bed,  of  raising  his  right  arm  slowly  in  front 
of  his  face,  up  to  his  forehead,  and  then 
dropping  it  with  a  jerk,  so  that  the  wrist 


294  I*1  a  Club  Corner 

fell  heavily  on  the  bridge  of  his  nose.  The 
trick  did  not  occur  every  night,  but  occa- 
sionally, and  was  independent  of  any  ascer- 
Kabeiais1  tained  cause.  Rabelais  felt  sure  that  he 
inciiwtums.  must  have  been  the  son  of  a  king,  because 
nobody  had  more  princely  inclinations. 
"We  incline  in  the  same  manner,"  says 
the  author  of  Wishing-Cap  Papers,  "  to  be 
so  young  in  our  feelings,  and  to  desire  such 
a  good  long  life  before  us  to  do  a  world 
of  things  in,  that  it  seems  as  if  we  had  a 
right  to  it.  Mortality  is  a  good  provision, 
considering  that  the  world  has  not  come 
to  its  state  of  enjoyment,  and  that  people 
in  general,  by  the  time  they  are  forty, 
hardly  know  what  to  do  with  their  Sun- 
days; but  an  exception  might  be  made, 
we  think,  in  favor  of  those  who  could 
occupy  all  their  hours  some  way  or  other  a 
hundred  years  to  come,  and  who  have  not 
yet  got  over  their  love  even  of  ginger- 
bread." "If  by  the  visitation  of  God," 
writes  Holmes  in  his  remarkable  Elsie 
Venner,  "a  person  receives  any  injury 
impaired  which  impairs  the  intellect  or  the  moral 

intellect  or  ...  .      , 

moral         perceptions,  is  it  not  monstrous  to  judge 

ferceptions.    r 

such  a  person  by  our  common  working 
standards  of  right  and  wrong  ?  Certainly, 
everybody  will  answer,  in  cases  where  there 


In  a  Club  Corner  295 

is  a  palpable  organic  change  brought  about, 
as  when  a  blow  on  the  head  produces  in- 
sanity. Fools  !  How  long  will  it  be  before 
we  shall  learn  that  for  every  wound  which 
betrays  itself  to  the  sight  by  a  scar,  there 
are  a  thousand  unseen  mutilations  that  A 
cripple,  each  of  them,  some  one  or  more  of  mutilation*. 
our  highest  faculties."  The  same  author 
in  his  Mechanism  in  Thought  and  Morals, 
expresses  the  view  that  "When  we  can 
take  the  dimensions  of  virtue  by  triangula- 
tion  ;  when  we  can  literally  weigh  Justice 
in  her  own  scales  ;  when  we  can  speak  of 
the  specific  gravity  of  truth,  or  the  square 
root  of  honesty  ;  when  we  can  send  a  states- 
man his  integrity  in  a  package  to  Wash- 
ington, if  he  happen  to  have  left  it  behind 
—  then  we  may  begin  to  speak  of  the  moral  Moral 
character  of  inherited  tendencies,  which  'mhe^ittd" 
belong  to  the  machinery  on  which  the  Sov- 
ereign Power  alone  is  responsible.  The 
misfortune  of  perverse  instincts,  which 
adhere  to  us  as  congenital  inheritances, 
should  go  to  our  side  of  the  account,  if  the 
books  of  heaven  are  to  be  kept  as  the  great 
Church  of  Christendom  maintains  they  are, 
by  double  entry." 


296 


In  a  Club  Corner 


THB 

LACONIC. 


Farquhar. 


LaF<m- 
taine. 


Joubert  had  a  habit,  from  his  twentieth 
year  to  his  seventieth,  of  jotting  down  with 
a  pencil  the  best  issues  of  his  meditation 
as  they  arose,  and  out  of  this  chaos  of 
notes  was  shaped,  many  years  after  his 
death,  a  full  volume  of  Thoughts.  "If 
there  be  a  man,"  he  said,  "  plagued  with 
the  accursed  ambition  of  putting  a  whole 
volume  into  a  page,  a  whole  page  into  a 
sentence,  and  that  sentence  into  a  word,  it 
is  I."  When  Farquhar  was  near  the  end 
of  his  gay  yet  checkered  career,  death,  the 
glory  of  his  last  success,  and  the  thought 
of  his  children,  pressing  hard  upon  him,  he 
wrote  this  laconic,  but  perfectly  intelligible, 
note  to  Wilks  :  "  Dear  Bob,  —  I  have  not 
anything  to  leave  thee,  to  perpetuate  my 
memory,  but  two  helpless  girls  ;  look  upon 
them  sometimes,  and  think  of  him  that 
was,  to  the  last  moment  of  his  life,  — 
George  Farquhar."  Farquhar's  confidence 
in  his  friend  was  like  that  of  La  Fontaine, 
who,  having  lost  a  home,  was  met  in  the 
street  by  a  friend  who  invited  him  to  his. 
"I  was  going  there,"  said  the  simple- 
minded  poet.  Wilks  did  not  disappoint 
Farquhar's  expectations.  Quin  had  with- 
drawn to  Bath.  Garrick's  triumphs  had 
soured  him.  He  desired  to  be  asked  back 


In  a  Club  Corner  297 

to  Covent  Garden,  but  Rich  would  not 
humor  him.  The  one  wrote,  "  I  am  at 
Bath ;  yours,  James  Quin  "  :  and  the  other 

answered,  "  Stay  there,  and  be  d ;  yours, 

John  Rich."  W.  H.  Crawford,  Secretary 
of  the  Treasury,  wrote  to  S.  Dinsmore,  col- 
lector at  the  port  of  Mobile  :  "  Treasury  official. 
Department,  Washington,  Jan.  15,  1822. 
Sir :  This  Department  is  desirous  of  know- 
ing how  far  the  Topibigbee  river  runs  up. 
You  will  please  communicate  the  infor- 
mation. Respectfully.  W.  H.  Crawford. 
S.  Dinsmore,  Esq.,  collector,  Mobile."  "  Mo- 
bile, Feb'y  7th,  1822.  Sir:  I  have  the 
honor  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  your 
letter  of  the  I5th  ult.,  and  of  informing 
you,  in  reply,  that  the  Tombigbee  does  not 
run  up  at  all.  S.  Dinsmore.  Hon.  W.  H. 
Crawford,  Secretary  of  the  Treasury." 
"Treasury  Department,  Washington,  March 
1st,  1822.  Sir  :  I  have  the  honor  to  inform 
you  that  this  Department  has  no  further 
services  for  you  as  Collector  of  Mobile. 
Respectfully.  W.  H.  Crawford.  S.  Dins- 
more,  Mobile."  Dr.  Franklin  wrote  to  FwMm 
Strahan  :  "Philadelphia,  July  5,  1775.  Mr. 
Strahan:  You  are  a  member  of  that  par- 
liament, and  have  formed  a  part  of  that 
majority,  which  has  condemned  my  native 


298  In  a  Club  Corner 

country  to  destruction.  You  have  begun 
to  burn  our  towns,  and  to  destroy  their 
inhabitants.  Look  at  your  hands,  —  they 
are  stained  with  the  blood  of  your  rela- 
tions and  your  acquaintances.  You  and 
I  were  long  friends ;  you  are  at  present  my 
enemy,  and  I  am,  Yours,  B.  Franklin." 

Countess  of  The  Countess  of  Dorset  replied  to  Sir 
Joseph  Williamson,  secretary  of  state  to 
Charles  II.,  nominating  to  her  a  member 
for  the  borough  of  Appleby  :  "  I  have  been 
bullied  by  an  usurper,  I  have  been  neglected 
by  a  court,  but  I  will  not  be  dictated  to  by 

s,r  Philip  a  subject  —  your  man  shan't  stand."  Sir 
Philip  Sidney  wrote  to  the  secretary  of  his 
father  as  lord  deputy :  "  Mr.  Molineaux  : 
Few  words  are  best.  My  letters  to  my 
father  have  come  to  the  eyes  of  some. 
Neither  can  I  condemn  any  but  you  for 
it.  If  it  be  so,  you  have  played  the  very 
knave  with  me  ;  and  so  I  will  make  you 
know,  if  I  have  good  proof  of  it.  But 
that  for  so  much  as  is  past.  For  that  is  to 
come,  I  assure  you  before  God,  that  if  I 
ever  know  you  to  do  so  much  as  read  any 
letter  I  write  to  my  father,  without  his 
commandment,  or  my  consent,  I  will  thrust 
my  dagger  into  you.  And  trust  to  it,  for 
I  speak  it  in  earnest.  In  the  mean  time 


In  a  Club  Corner  299 

farewell.  From  Court,  this  last  of  May, 
1578.  By  me,  Philip  Sidney."  Rufus 
Choate  and  Daniel  Webster  were  once  choateand 
opposed  to  each  other  as  lawyers  in  a  suit 
which  turned  on  the  size  of  certain  wheels. 
Mr.  Choate  filled  the  air  with  the  rockets 
of  rhetoric,  and  dazzled  the  jury,  but  Mr. 
Webster  caused  the  wheels  to  be  brought 
into  court  and  put  behind  a  screen.  When 
he  rose  to  speak  the  screen  was  removed, 
and  his  only  reply  to  Choate's  eloquence 
was,  "  Gentlemen  !  there  are  the  wheels ! " 
A  spy  named  Palmer,  sent  by  Sir  Henry 
Clinton,  the  British  commander,  had  been 
detected  furtively  collecting  information  of 
the  force  and  condition  of  the  post  at  Peeks- 
kill,  and  had  undergone  a  military  trial. 
A  vessel  of  war  came  up  the  Hudson  in  all 
haste,  and  landed  a  flag  of  truce  at  Ver- 
planck's  Point,  by  which  a  message  was 
transmitted  to  Putnam  from  Clinton  claim- 
ing the  said  Palmer  as  a  lieutenant  in  the 
British  service.  Putnam  replied:  "Head-  Putnam  to 
Quarters,  7th  August,  1777.  Edward  Pal- 
mer, an  officer  in  the  enemy's  service,  was 
taken  as  a  spy  lurking  within  our  lines  ;  he 
has  been  tried  as  a  spy,  and  shall  be  ex- 
ecuted as  a  spy;  and  the  flag  is  ordered 
to  depart  immediately  Israel  Putnam. 


^oo  In  a  Club  Corner 

P.  S.    He  has,  accordingly,  been  executed." 
A  young  lady  having  gone  out  to  India,  and 
writing  home   to   her  friends,  concluded : 
Animpor.    "  P.  S.  You  will  see  by  my  signature  that  I 
wf       am  married."    An  answer  to  the  Bishop  of 
Norwich,  in  acknowledgment  of  an  invita- 
tion, is  reported  :  "  Mr.  O.'s  private  affairs 
turn  out  so  sadly  that  he  cannot  have  the 
pleasure  of  waiting  upon  his  lordship  at  his 
agreeable   home   on  Monday  next.     N.  B. 
His  wife  is  dead."      Foote's  mother  had 
been  heiress  to  a  large  fortune,  spent  it  all, 
and  was  at  length  imprisoned  for  debt.     In 
Footeand     this  condition  she  wrote  to  Sam,  who  had 

kts  mother. 

been  allowing  her  a  hundred  a  year  out  of 
the  proceeds  of  his  acting,  "  Dear  Sam,  I 
am  in  prison  for  debt ;  come  and  assist 
your  loving  mother,  E.  Foote."  Sam  re- 
plied, "Dear  Mother,  so  am  I,  which  pre- 
vents his  duty  being  paid  to  his  loving 
mother  by  her  affectionate  son,  Sam  Foote." 
Voltaire  "  Eo  rus,"  wrote  Voltaire  one  day,  to  notify 
Piron  that  he  was  "going  into  the  coun- 
try " ;  Piron,  to  surpass  this  epistle  in 
brevity,  replied  by  one  letter,  "  I,"  which 
is  Latin  for  "  go."  "  Will  you  breakfast 
with  me  to-morrow  ?  S.  R.,"  was  Rogers' 
invitation  to  a  celebrated  wit  and  beauty. 
"Won't  I?  H.  D.,"  was  the  response. 


In  a  Club  Corner  301 

"  My  Dear  Dorset,  I  have  just  been  mar- 
ried, and  am  the  happiest  dog  alive. 
(Signed)  Berkeley."  Answer :  "  My  Dear 
Berkeley,  Every  dog  has  his  day.  (Signed) 
Dorset."  A  young  man  at  college  ad- 
dressed his  uncle  :  "  My  Dear  Uncle  — 
Ready  for  the  needful.  Your  affectionate  Uncieand 
Nephew."  To  which  the  uncle  replied : 
"My  Dear  Nephew  —  The  needful  is  not 
ready.  Your  affectionate  Uncle."  John 
Randolph  sometimes  met  his  match,  as  in 
a  contest  on  one  occasion  on  the  floor  of 
the  House  of  Representatives  with  Daniel 
Sheffey,  a  Virginian,  who  had  risen  by  the 
force  of  his  talents  from  the  humble  posi- 
tion of  shoemaker.  "  Let  the  cobbler  stick 
to  his  last,"  said  Randolph,  in  scornful  Randolph. 
allusion  to  Sheffey's  former  occupation. 
"  If  the  gentleman  had  been  raised  a  cob- 
bler he  would  be  a  cobbler  now,"  was  the 
splendid  retort.  It  was,  we  believe,  the 
eminent  Tristam  Burges,  of  Rhode  Island, 
who  made  even  a  better  reply  to  the  caustic 
Virginian.  They  were  standing  together 
on  the  steps  of  the  Capitol  when  a  drove 
of  mules  passed  by.  "  Some  of  your  con- 
stituents," said  Randolph,  pointing  to  the 
long  line  of  long-eared  quadrupeds.  "  Yes," 
responded  Burges  ;  "  going  South  to  teach 
school." 


jO2  In  a  Club  Corner 

MONOTONY  "  The  monotonous  don't  interest  me  any 
IARITY.  longer,"  said  a  pretty  young  woman  who 
waited  upon  Dr.  Bellows  and  his  party  at 
the  Schangli,  the  most  commanding  pros- 
pect of  the  Bernese  Alps,  as  she  witnessed 
their  enthusiasm  when  the  setting  sun  had 
set  the  whole  chain  into  a  flame  of  beauty. 
She  had  seen  too  much  of  them.  "All 
the  world  comes  here  to  see  these  moun- 
tains," said  an  interesting  peasant  girl  at 
the  opening  of  the  valley  of  Chamouni, 
"and  I  wish  they  would  carry  Mont  Blanc 
away  with  them  —  a  great  snow-bank, 
spoiling  our  harvests  in  autumn,  and  carry- 
ing away  our  bridges  in  spring,  and  killing 
our  husbands  and  brothers  who  have  to 
climb  it  for  you  strangers,  so  curious  about 
such  a  common  thing.  Everybody  wants 
to  come  here,  and  I  only  want  to  get  away. 
I  am  saving  all  the  money  I  can  get  to 
go  to  Geneva,  and  perhaps  to  Paris."  The 
agents  of  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  are 
Barrack  described  as  leading  their  barrack  life  by 
rule,  sitting  down  at  stated  hours  to  the 
same  primitive  fare,  in  the  company  that 
has  become  only  too  familiar.  They  must 
have  "  sucked  each  other's  brains  "  till  the 
exhaustion  is  complete,  and  traveled  over 
every  inch  of  their  respective  minds  till 


In  a  Club  Corner  303 

they  know  them  as  well  as  the  bit  of  prai- 
rie that  lies  round  their  stockade.  It  was 
the  opinion  of  Hazlitt  that  in  the  course  An  opinion 

,  .  ,    of  HazlitCs. 

of  a  long  acquaintance  we  have  repeated 
all  our  good  things,  and  discussed  all  our 
favorite  topics  several  times  over,  so  that 
our  conversation  becomes  a  mockery  of 
social  intercourse.  We  might  as  well  talk 
to  ourselves.  The  soil  of  friendship  is 
worn  out  with  constant  use.  Habit  may 
still  attach  us  to  each  other,  but  we  feel 
ourselves  fettered  by  it.  Old  friends  might 
be  compared  to  old  married  people  without 
the  tie  of  children.  It  may  seem  a  hard 
and  worldly  thing  to  say,  says  the  author 
of  The  Intellectual  Life,  but  it  appears  to 
me  that  a  wise  man  might  limit  his  inter- 
course with  others  before  there  was  any 
danger  of  satiety,  as  it  is  wisdom  in  eating 
to  rise  from  table  with  an  appetite.  Cer-  *" 
taihly,  if  the  friends  of  our  intellect  live 
near  enough  for  us  to  anticipate  no  per- 
manent separation  from  them  by  mere  dis- 
tance, if  we  may  expect  to  meet  them 
frequently,  to  have  many  opportunities  for 
a  more  thorough  and  searching  explora- 
tion of  their  minds,  it  is  a  wise  policy  not 
to  exhaust  them  all  at  once. 


304  In  a  Club  Corner 

SLBEPOF         Vauvenargues,  in  one  of  his  Maxims,  de- 

THK  MIND.    fineg  indolence  to  be  the  slee     Qf  the  mm(j 


You  remember  the  vivid  picture  of  Dick- 
ens', describing  Gabriel  Varden,  standing 
working  at  his  anvil,  his  face  all  radiant 
with  exercise  and  gladness,  his  sleeves 
turned  up,  his  wig  pushed  off  his  shining 
forehead  —  the  easiest,  freest,  happiest 
man  in  all  the  world.  Beside  him  sat  a 
sleek  cat,  purring  and  winking  in  the  light, 
and  falling  every  now  and  then  into  an  idle 
Exceuof  doze,  as  from  excess  of  comfort.  You  re- 
member also  the  twenty-fourth  stanza  of 
Thomson's  Castle  of  Indolence  —  the  lazi- 
est lines  in  literature  :  — 

"  Waked  by  the  crowd,  slow  from  his  bench  arose 

A  comely,  full-fed  porter,  swoln  with  sleep  : 

His  calm,  broad,  thoughtless  aspect  breathed  repose; 

And  in  sweet  torpor  he  was  plunged  deep, 

Ne  could  himself  from  ceaseless  yawning  keep; 

While  o'er  his  eyes  the  drowsy  liquor  ran, 

Through  which  his  half-waked  soul  would  faintly  peep  : 

Then  taking  his  black  staff,  he  called  his  man, 

And  roused  himself  as  much  as  rouse  himself  he  can." 

Agott&t  Agassiz,  in  his  Journey  to  Brazil,  speaks 
of  a  sloth  on  board  his  vessel  on  the  Ama- 
zon, —  the  most  fascinating  of  all  his  pets 
—  not  for  his  charms,  but  for  his  oddities. 
"I  am  never  tired,"  he  says,  "of  watching 
him,  he  looks  so  deliciously  lazy.  His 


In  a  Club  Corner  305 

head  sunk  in  his  arms,  his  whole  attitude 

lax  and  indifferent,  he  seems  to  ask  only  Asked  0,ay 

for  rest.     If  you  push  him,  or  if,  as  often 

happens,  a  passer-by  gives  him  a  smart  tap 

to  arouse  him,  he  lifts  his  head  and  drops 

his  arms  so  slowly,   so  deliberately,   that 

they  hardly  seem  to  move,  raises  his  heavy 

lids  and  lets  his  large  eyes  rest  upon  your 

face  for  a  moment  with  appealing,  hope- 

less indolence;  then  the  lids  fall  softly,  the 

head  droops,  the  arms  fold  heavily  about 

it,  and  he  collapses  again  into  absolute  re- 


,,        _.   .  into  absolute 

pose.  This  mute  remonstrance  was  the  repose. 
nearest  approach  to  activity  the  naturalist 
saw  him  make.  Lamb,  in  his  delicious 
essay  On  Some  of  the  Old  Actors,  says  of 
Dodd,  that  "  in  expressing  slowness  of  ap- 
prehension he  surpassed  all  others.  You 
could  see  the  first  dawn  of  an  idea  stealing  The  first 
slowly  over  his  countenance,  climbing  up 
by  little  and  little,  with  a  painful  process, 
till  it  closed  up  at  last  to  the  fullness  of  a 
twilight  conception  —  its  highest  meridian. 
He  seemed  to  keep  back  his  intellect,  as 
some  have  had  the  power  to  retard  their 
pulsation.  The  balloon  takes  less  time  in 
filling,  than  it  took  to  cover  the  expansion 
of  his  broad  moony  face  over  all  its  quar 
ters  with  expression.  A  glimmer  of  un- 


306  In  a  Club  Corner 

derstanding  would  appear  in  the  corner  of 
his  eye,  and  for  lack  of  fuel  go  out  again. 
A  part  of  his  forehead  would  catch  a  little 
intelligence,  and  be  a  long  time  in  commu- 
nicating it  to  the  remainder."  One  day, 
At  a  cross.  a^  |-ne  one  store  of  a  cross-roads  village, 

roads  vtl- 

****'  I  had  convenient  means   of   witnessing  a 

scene  which  has  remained  in  my  memory. 
It  was  in  summer,  and  the  laziest  day  of 
the  season.  Waiting  for  a  friend,  I  had 
ample  opportunity  to  observe  an  interest- 
ing person  who  sat  a  few  feet  from  me. 
He  was  evidently  in  perfect  health,  and 
perfectly  at  his  ease  in  his  life  and  posses- 
sions. His  complexion  and  figure  were 
proof  of  unconscious  digestion,  undisturbed 
circulation,  and  absolute  repose  of  nerves. 
Everything  about  him,  indeed,  denoted  an 
Anutter  utter  absence  of  sensation.  He  was  a 
"tenlat'ion.  farmer,  there  was  no  doubt  —  in  full  enjoy- 
ment of  enough  of  earth's  fat  acres,  and 
a  generous  sufficiency  of  all  fat  things. 
There  were  no  burdens  or  cumbersome  im- 
provements on  his  land,  and  he  was  happy 
in  the  possession  of  it. 

"  Wi'  sma'  to  sell,  and  less  to  buy, 
Aboon  distress,  below  envy, 
Oh  who  wad  leave  this  humble  state, 
For  a'  the  pride  of  a'  the  great  ?  " 


In  a  Club  Corner  $oj 

He  had  come  over  to  the  neighborhood 
store  to  buy  something,  and  had  sat  him 
down  with  the  newspaper,  at  the  open 
door,  in  the  sweet  air,  to  read ;  but  he  was  sweet  air. 
too  comfortable,  or  the  task  was  too  great 
—  he  had  made  no  progress.  The  paper 
had  slipped  from  him,  and  his  hand  had 
the  expression  of  reaching  for  it,  but  the 
will  was  wanting  to  move  it.  He  was  not, 
as  we  say,  asleep,  but  only  profoundly  re- 
posing—  dreaming,  as  his  faculties  would 
permit  —  drowned,  as  they  were,  in  excess 
of  comfort  —  deep  down  in  the  still  depths 
of  tranquillity,  where  the  mind  rests  — free 
of  currents,  friction,  or  fretting.  His  eyes 
were  nearly  closed,  as  if  to  remain  so.  He 
seemed  to  be  absolutely  unconscious  of  the 
little  life  that  was  about  him.  A  boy, 
passing  before  him,  made  no  more  impres- 
sion than  the  shadow  of  a  cloud.  An 
express  train  rushed  by,  a  few  rods  from 
where  he  sat:  the  newspaper  felt  it,  and  The  news- 

,  -  .       .  paper  moved 

moved — the  man  not   at   all.     Animated  —the  man 

.    .  not  at  all. 

conversation  sprang  up ;  spirit  and  humor 
prevailed.  A  story  was  told.  The  news- 
paper moved  again  a  little  ;  at  last,  the 
man.  His  mind  slowly  waked  from  its 
blissful  state  ;  eyelids  lifted  ;  eyes  bright- 
ened ;  sides  shook ;  and  a  burst  of  laugh- 


jo8  In  a  Club  Corner 

ter  was  heard  —  showing,  not  only  appreci- 
ation, but  thankfulness,  that  another  en- 
joyment had  been  reserved  for  him,  to  fill 
up  his  cup  of  happiness  to  boundless  over- 
flowing. 


^    *S    *   ^TU&    S^ln^'    l^at    °PPOrtUnity  IS 


GUIDANCE     kind,   but   only  to  the   industrious.     The 

OF  NECKS-  ' 

MTY.  Persians  have  a  legend  that  a  poor  man 

watched  a  thousand  years  before  the  gate 
of  Paradise.  Then,  when  he  snatched  one 
little  nap,  —  it  opened,  and  shut.  Dr.  John, 
in  Villette,  throughout  his  whole  life,  was 
a  man  of  luck  —  a  man  of  success.  And 
why  ?  Because  he  had  the  eye  to  see  his 
opportunity,  the  heart  to  prompt  to  well- 
timed  action,  the  nerve  to  consummate 
a  perfect  work.  And  no  tyrant-passion 
dragged  him  back ;  no  enthusiasms,  no 
foibles  encumbered  his  way.  "  To  win," 
A  saying  said  von  Moltke,  "  you  must  be  at  the 
Make's,  right  place  at  the  right  time  with  a  supe- 
rior fore?."  A  distinguished  traveler  was 
struck  with  the  excess  of  wealth  and  luxury 
in  the  old  countries,  where  persons  of  orig- 
inal or  splendid  gifts  are  obliged  to  invent 
careers  for  themselves,  being  denied  the 
friendly  guidance  of  necessity.  When  Sir 
Horace  Vere  died,  it  was  asked  what  had 


In  a  Club  Corner  309 

occasioned  his  death  ;  to  which  some  one 
replied,  "By  doing  nothing."  Among  the 
companions  of  Reynolds,  when  he  was 
studying  his  art  at  Rome,  was  a  fellow- 
pupil  of  the  name  of  Astley.  They  made 
an  excursion,  with  some  others,  on  a  sultry 
day,  and  all  except  Astley  took  off  their 
coats.  After  some  taunts  he  was  per- 
suaded to  do  the  same,  and  displayed  on 
the  back  of  his  waistcoat  a  foaming  water- 
fall. Necessity  had  compelled  him  to  patch 
his  clothes  with  one  of  his  own  landscapes. 
Montesquieu,  alluding  in  a  letter  to  one  of 
his  works,  says  to  his  correspondent,  "  You 
will  read  it  in  a  few  hours,  but  the  labor 
expended  upon  it  has  whitened  my  hair." 
Fortune,  it  has  been  said,  does  not  like  a 
swordsman,  she  scorns  to  encounter  a  fear- 
ful man  :  there  is  no  honor  in  the  victory 
where  there  is  no  danger  in  the  way  to  it; 
she  tries  Mencius  by  fire  ;  Rutilius  by 
exile  ;  Socrates  by  poison  ;  Cato  by  death. 
It  is  only  in  adverse  fortune,  and  in  bad 
times,  that  we  find  great  examples. 


The  Orientals,  as  clearly  stated,  defined  THE  PALM 

OF  DESTINY, 

Fate  to  be  the  penalty  of  deeds  committed 
in  a  former  state  of  existence.  And  the 
like  penalty  is  reaffirmed  by  Jews  and 


jio  In  a  Club  Corner 

Christians,   ancestral    sins    being    visited 

upon  the  children  even  to  the  third  and 

fourth   generation,  —  by  imputation   upon 

"Fate  is  a    the  race  itself.     "Fate  is  a  hand,"  say  the 

kand^  say 

^orien.  Orientals.  "It  lays  two  fingers  on  the 
eyes,  two  on  the  ears,  one  on  the  mouth, 
and  ever  cries,  Be  still."  Fate,  the  phi- 
losophers define  to  be,  "a  name  for  facts 
not  yet  passed  under  the  fire  of  thought ; 
—  for  causes  which  are  unpenetrated." 
Materialists  give  it  the  name  of  destiny. 
"  I  do  not,"  said  Carlyle,  "  quake  in  my  bed 
like  Wordsworth,  trying  to  reconcile  the 
ways  of  Providence  to  my  apprehension. 
I  early  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I  was 
not  very  likely  to  make  it  out  clearly  :  the 
notions  of  the  Calvinists  seem  what  you 
cannot  escape  from,  namely,  that  if  it 's  all 
known  beforehand,  why,  it  all  must  hap- 
pen." It  is  now  twenty  years  ago  or  more 

A  morn-  since  a.  morning's  walk  led  me  by  Bellevue 
Hospital  and  the  Morgue.  It  was  on  Sun- 
day, and  in  dog-days  —  the  close  of  a  heated 
term.  The  temperature  was  high  in  the 
eighties,  and  steadily  rising.  I  saw,  as  I 
crossed  over  one  of  the  street  railroads, 
that  the  iron  rails  had  already  expanded  to 
an  extent  to  bow  them  perceptibly.  Cross- 
ing  the  avenue  to  the  hospital  corner,  I 


In  a  Club  Corner  311 

particularly  noticed  the  people  going  in 
and  coming  out  of  the  dead-house,  and  that  rke 
they  emerged  with  very  different  counte- 
nances than  they  went  in  with.  Generally 
a  sort  of  social  exchange,  it  was  evident 
that  on  this  occasion,  for  some  reason,  it 
was  a  serious  place,  discouraging  to  socia- 
bility. Persons  that  went  in  together  chat- 
ting, came  out  apart,  and  with  grave  faces. 
Curiosity,  which  in  great  part  had  led  them  curiosity 
thither,  was  confounded,  and  a  bitter  lesson  con-foun 
of  life  had  been  impressed  on  their  minds. 
I  passed  by.  The  smell  of  salt  water  at 
the  foot  of  the  street,  as  it  lapped  the  piles 
and  timbers,  made  me  linger,  though  com- 
pelled to  listen  to  the  yelping  and  snarling 
and  fighting  of  the  dogs  at  the  pound  hard 
by.  The  peculiar  types  of  men  the  canine 
unfortunates  brought  about  them  were  of 
interest,  and  to  an  extent  diverted  my  at- 
tention from  the  miserable  noises.  Oppo- 
site the  Morgue  I  lingered  again,  and  again 
noticed  the  marked  differences  of  expres-  Differences 
sion  upon  faces  as  they  went  in  and  came  £** 
out.  Never  having  visited  a  place  of  the 
sort,  and  never  having  had  a  desire  to  do 
so,  on  this  occasion  I  felt  an  irresistible  in- 
clination to  cross  over.  I  did  so,  and  went 
in.  The  mystery  of  the  changed  faces  was 


}i2  In  a  Club  Corner 

soon  enough  explained.  Three  or  more  of 
the  marble  slabs  within  the  glass-inclosed 
room  were  occupied  by  dead  bodies,  —  two 
of  which  immediately  engaged  my  atten- 
tion. They  lay  side  by  side,  covered  to  the 
neck  with  rubber  cloth,  streams  of  water 
from  pipes  above  breaking  over  them  and 
rwA70r  running  away  at  the  edges.  Two  poor 
bodies.  dead  human  bodies  could  hardly  have  been 
more  different  in  appearance.  They  were 
women,  and  apparently  of  about  the  same 
age.  One  had  light,  soft  hair,  and  a  very 
fair,  delicate  complexion ;  the  face  in  every 
feature  was  remarkably  beautiful ;  the  eye- 
lids, not  entirely  closed,  revealed  a  line  of 
bright  blue  under  the  long  lashes  ;  the  fore- 
head of  breadth  and  height  and  expression 
to  denote  unusual  cultivation ;  the  delicate 
ears  almost  transparent ;  the  nose  straight, 
with  nostrils  exquisitely  thin  and  sensitive  ; 
the  mouth  of  peculiar  refinement  and 
sweetness  ;  lips  not  wholly  covering  rows 
of  perfectly  white  teeth  ;  chin  and  cheeks 
with  dimples  still  in  them  ;  throat  and  neck 
shapely  enough  to  suggest  happy  achieve- 
ments to  sculpture  ;  —  looking,  altogether, 
Face  of  like  the  face  of  opulence,  —  the  face  of  a 
bright  human  being  who  just  now  was  the 
centre  of  intelligence  and  elegance  —  the 


In  a  Club  Corner  313 

petted  favorite  of  enlightenment  and  the 
social  virtues.  She  looked  to  be  the  de- 
scendant of  long  lines  of  gentlemen  and 
ladies,  whose  faces  had  been  set  against 
evil,  and  whose  aspirations  were  upward 
and  pure  —  the  best  fruit  of  the  best  and 
most  encouraging  civilization.  The  other  The  other  of 
unfortunate  was  of  a  totally  different  type.  "type. ert 
Her  complexion  was  cloudy  and  forbid- 
ding ;  her  hair  black  and  coarse  ;  her  brow 
low  and  marked  by  lines  of  distress  ;  her 
cheek-bones  high,  and  jaws  square  and  set, 
as  if  in  habitual  desperate  resistance  to 
fate  ;  eyes  close  shut  and  shrunken ;  two 
ugly  scars,  one  on  the  forehead  and  the 
other  behind  one  of  her  ears,  disfigured 
and  marked  her  as  a  victim  of  grossness 
and  brutality.  The  head  and  face  were 
expressive  of  degradation  and  wretched- 
ness, and  remain  to  me  to  this  day  a  haunt- 
ing memory.  Alas  the  life  too  plainly 
written  in  the  hard  lines  and  sinewy  con- 
formation. Existence  had  been  a  struggle 
—  life  an  unequal  and  awful  battle.  She  Life  an 
had  suffered  the  ills  of  generations.  Her 
father  and  her  grandfather  likely  had  been 
anything  but  gentlemen  ;  her  mother  and 
grandmother  anything  but  ladies.  Poor  un- 
fortunates !  Side  by  side  they  lay,  skimmed 


In  a  Club  Corner 


Presence  of 

wck/act* 

tflife. 


CONTENT, 


A  little 
fortune  in 
honey. 


off  the  bay  the  same  hour.  Through 
what  devious  and  diverse  ways  they  had 
met  in  this  horrible  place.  Human  nature 
and  human  experience  stand  dumb  in  the 
presence  of  such  facts  of  life.  The  inev- 
itable, the  irremediable  —  who  can  even 
guess  to  what  extent  ?  —  had  to  all  appear- 
ance determined  the  end  of  these  two  poor 
human  creatures.  Call  it  fate,  call  it  des- 
tiny, call  it  predestination,  —  in  effect  it  is 
the  same  ;  all  philosophies  and  all  religions 
to  a  greater  or  less  extent  include  it,  and 
we  all  unconsciously  bow  to  it. 

"What  has  God  given  to  the  wren? 
Content."  St.  Jenny  (created  and  canon- 
ized by  Jerrold)  was  wedded  to  a  very  poor 
man ;  they  had  scarcely  bread  to  keep 
them  ;  but  Jenny  was  of  so  sweet  a  temper 
that  even  want  bore  a  bright  face,  and 
Jenny  always  smiled.  In  the  worst  sea- 
sons Jenny  would  spare  crumbs  for  the 
birds,  and  sugar  for  the  bees.  Now  it  so 
happened  that  one  autumn  a  storm  rent 
their  cot  in  twenty  places  apart;  when, 
behold,  between  the  joints,  from  the  base- 
ment to  the  roof,  there  was  nothing  but 
honeycomb  and  honey  —  a  little  fortune 
for  St.  Jenny  and  her  husband,  in  honey. 


In  a  Club  Corner  315 

Now,  some  one  said  it  was  the  bees,  but 
more  declared  it  was  the  sweet  temper  and 
contentment  of  St.  Jenny  that  had  filled 
the  poor  man's  house  with  honey.  When 
Pittacus,  after  the  death  of  his  brother,  who 
had  left  him  a  good  estate,  was  offered  a 
great  sum  of  money  by  the  king  of  Lydia, 
he  thanked  him  for  his  kindness,  but  told  . 
him  he  had  already  more  by  half  than  he 
knew  what  to  do  with.  In  short,  content  Content 

9  equivalent 

is  equivalent  to  wealth,  and  luxury  to  pov-  to  wealth. 
erty ;  or,  to  give  the  thought  a  more  agree- 
able turn,  "Content  is  natural  wealth," 
says  Socrates;  to  which  Addison  adds, 
"  Luxury  is  artificial  poverty  ; "  and  recom- 
mends to  the  consideration  of  those  who 
are  always  aiming  after  superfluous  and 
imaginary  enjoyments,  and  will  not  be  at 
the  trouble  of  contracting  their  desires,  an 
excellent  saying  of  Bion  the  philosopher ; 
namely,  that  "  No  man  has  so  much  care 
as  he  who  endeavors  after  the  most  happi- 
ness." "After  all,"  wrote  Bulwer  to  Lady 
Blessington,  "  a  very  little  could  suffice  to 
make  us  happy,  were  it  not  for  our  own  de- 
sires to  be  happier  still.  Certainly  I  think, 
as  we  grow  older,  we  grow  more  cheer- 
ful ;  externals  please  us  more  ;  and  were  it 
not  for  those  dead  passions  which  we  call 


$i6  In  a  Club  Corner 

memories,  and  which  have  ghosts  no  ex- 
orcism can  lay,  we  might  walk  on  soberly 
to  the  future,  and  dispense  with  excitement 
by  the  way.  If  we  cannot  stop  Time,  it  is 
something  to  shoe  him  with  felt,  and  pre- 
vent his  steps  from  creaking." 

DEMOC-  It  would  seem  that  in  the  United  States 

of  America  all  things  promising  are  to  be 
tried.  Societies  are  to  be  organized  for 
everything,  corporations  multiplied  indefi- 
nitely, and  legislation  exhausted  to  make 
and  to  keep  everybody  honest,  temperate, 
and  virtuous.  Both  sexes  and  all  colors 
are  to  be  educated  together.  Suffrage  is 
to  be  universal.  Distinctions  of  God  are 
to  be  unrecognized  by  men.  An  ideal 
government  of  the  people,  it  is  to  know  no 
distinctions,  and  permit  none.  _  Nothing 
shall  be  impossible  to  it.  Whimsical  at 
times  it  will  appear,  but  its  whimsicalities 
will  be  the  recreations  and  gambols  of  power. 
So  generally  and  intensely  preoccupied,  it 
is  but  natural  that  sometimes  a  child  should 
itsfavorit-  lead  it.  Its  favoritism,  more  and  more, 
"n"<4uxf-  will  be  fickle  and  qualified.  More  and  more 
it  will  delight  to  scatter  its  gifts,  limiting 
their  tenure  to  subordination.  Individuals 
may  be  its  favorites,  until  they  assume  to 


In  a  Club  Corner  317 

be,  when  they  are  not.  The  rights  it  would 
secure  to  each  are  not  to  be  incompatible 
with  the  rights  of  any.  Opportunity  for 
all,  advantages  to  none.  All  elements  must 
come  under  control,  and  be  compounded. 
Masses  it  will  ostentatiously  affect,  not  in-  Masses  a 

,...,  TT  .  _          .  will  ostenta* 

dividuals.  Heads  so  much  on  a  level,  one  tiausiy 
above  the  rest  will  be  an  obstruction.  If  * 
a  quiet  blow  will  reduce  it,  down  it  must 
go.  "To  live  alone  is  the  chastisement 
of  whoever  will  raise  himself  too  high." 
Kings  have  no  company.  What  one  knows 
all  will  be  understood  to  know.  Weak- 
nesses and  interests  will  be  accommodated. 
What  affects  one  must  affect  all.  The 
materialities  —  where  the  attempt  is  made 
to  make  all  things  material  —  will  increas- 
ingly govern.  Wealth,  more  and  more,  wea 
will  be  —  acknowledged  or  not  —  the  om- 
nipotent  distinction.  Society  at  large,  ac- 
customed to  its  aggressive  splendor  and 
monopoly  of  advantages,  will  bow  down  to 
it,  envy  it,  and  hate  it  unconsciously  — 
unconscious  all  the  time  of  its  own  grow- 
ing enslavement.  Intellect  and  purity  — 
come  to  be  regarded  as  the  creations  of 
the  schoolmaster  and  the  legislator  —  will 
submit  to  be  graded,  averaged,  and  appro- 
priated—  kneaded,  so  to  speak,  by  the 


j/5  In  a  Club  Corner 

hand  of  the  master  — without  resistance  or 
sense  of  responsibility  —  till  the  end  comes. 
A  scrupulously  applied  Christianity,  puri- 
fying, protecting,  and  directing  the  ballot, 
and  reducing  the  universal  selfishness  to 
its  minimum,  must  of  course  dissolve  all 
that  is  gloomy  or  discouraging  in  any  out- 
look, speculation,  or  conjecture. 

PROUD  Michelet  describes  a  French  peasant  on 

a  Sunday  morning,  walking  out  in  his  clean 
linen  and  unsoiled  blouse.  His  wife  is 
at  church,  and  this  simple  farmer  paces 
across  his  acres  and  looks  fondly  at  his 
land.  You  see  him  in  solitude,  but  his 
face  is  illuminated  when  he  thinks  his  farm 
is  his  own,  from  the  surface  of  the  globe 
to  its  centre,  and  that  the  climate  is  his 
own  from  the  surface  of  the  earth  up  to 
the  seventh  heaven.  You  find  that  man, 
if  a  stranger  approaches  him,  withdraw- 
ing, that  he  may  enjoy  his  affection  in  soli- 
Tkt French  tude  \  and  as  he  turns  away  from  his  Sun- 
s^SZy*  day  walk  through  his  own  pastures,  you 
notice  that  he  looks  back  over  his  shoulder 
with  affection,  and  parts  with  regret.  He 
is  not  at  work ;  he  is  not  out  to  keep  off 
interlopers  ;  he  is  out  simply  to  enjoy  the 
feeling  of  ownership  and  to  look  upon  him- 


In  a  Club  Corner  319 

self  as  a  member  of  responsible  society. 
The  cit  also  is  proudly  at  his  ease,  and 

.  .  proudly  at 

paces  the  avenue  a  sovereign  in  his  pos-  huease. 
sessions.  What  to  him  are  acres  and  plow- 
shares compared  with  the  great  town  of 
which  he  is  a  part  ?  The  vast  congeries  of 
activities  and  forces  exists  and  is  operated 
for  his  convenience  and  comfort.  Plans 
he  could  not  originate  are  ready  made. 
The  flow  of  his  life  is  in  a  common  chan- 
nel. The  full  volume  and  steady  current 
satisfy  his  efforts,  and  the  chances  of  move- 
ment float  him  momentarily  to  the  top. 
Happy  or  wretched,  he  can  touch  a  thou- 
sand like  him.  The  best  and  worst  of  every- 
thing are  at  hand,  and  contiguous.  The 
virtues  and  vices  are  organized,  and  recruit- 
ing. The  great  town  is  the  greatest,  and 
he  is  a  part  of  it.  Helping  to  make  it,  he 
does  something,  and  will  not  have  lived  in 
vain.  He  does  not  see  how,  but  he  would 
be  missed.  He  expands  with  the  bigness  Elands 
about  him.  The  great  assemblage  makes 
him  decorous.  His  conduct  disgraces  or 
dignifies  it.  He  dresses  to  be  presentable 
to  it.  It  keeps  a  guard  over  him  while 
he  sleeps  and  knows  his  footsteps  when 
awake.  The  streets  are  lit  for  him.  The 
parks  are  planted  for  him.  The  harbor  is 


j2o  In  a  Club  Corner 

The  harbor  broader  for   his   eye.     An  opera  he  may 

broader  for     .  i  A          i  r  • 

his  eye.  hear  at  the  Academy  for  a  guinea,  or  at 
the  cathedral  for  a  shilling.  Church  priv- 
ileges are  purchasable  or  acceptable,  at 
will.  The  cemetery,  where  they  bury  in 
tombs  and  trenches,  is  one  of  his  posses- 
sions. All  are  his  as  much  as  anybody's, 
and  his  without  exciting  anybody's  envy 
or  cupidity.  Each  illustrates  the  fable  of 
the  swimming  apples,  and  applies  it  to  the 
rest.  The  universal  hat  is  lifted  in  conde- 
scension and  recognition. 

RBSPONSI-  If  we  truly  believed  and  realized  that 
here  we  begin  to  be  what  we  are  to  be 
ever,  how  absorbing  and  responsible  life 
would  be.  How  conscientiously  and  per- 
sistently we  should  seek  the  good  and 
avoid  the  evil.  How  carefully  we  should 
guard  ourselves  against  whatever  must 
perish  with  the  body,  and  how  ardently 
cultivate  all  which  must  survive  it.  Hap- 
piness would  not  be  sought  in  its  transient 
forms.  Life  would  be  appreciated  by  its 
The  duty  o/  resultant  uses.  The  duty  of  the  hour 
duty  o/ au  would  be  the  duty  of  all  time.  The  good 
would  inhere.  The  present  would  be  re- 
alized as  the  period  of  growth  and  achieve- 
ment ;  and  having  something  to  do  worth 


In  a  Club  Corner  321 

doing,  we  should  need  all  the  time  we  have 
to  do  it  well.  The  duties  of  the  day  faith- 
fully discharged,  we  should  not  much  con- 
cern ourselves  about  the  morrow.  The 
morrow  would  be  so  far  provided  for  that  it  "^d 
would  be  anticipated  and  made  easy,  if  it  ** 
come.  Refinement  and  intelligence  and 
excellence  would  result  from  fidelity  to 
duty,  and  a  happiness  would  be  established 
as  serene  as  it  would  be  unconscious. 
Living  and  acting,  and  getting  the  pleasure 
and  good  of  life  with  each  day  of  it,  we 
should  enjoy  a  foretaste  of  fruition  and 
perpetuity. 


[Titles  for  essays,  with  some  citations  ESSAYS 

J  TITLES. 

and  hints.] 

Malignant  Joy.  —  Edmund  Kean's  act- 
ing. 

Monopolists  of  Salvation. 

The  Heroism  of  Self-Denial. 

Indolence  and  Cowardice.  —  At  the  bot- 
tom of  too  many  of  our  beliefs  and  prac- 
tices. 

Pitiers  of  Themselves.  —  Emerson. 

Doubt.  —  De  Tocqueville's  three  miser- 
ies. 

Pride  and  Conscience.  —  Poe's  Margi- 
nalia. 


$22  In  a  Club  Corner 

"My  Dear  Devil."  — The  fidelity  of 
woman. 

Dodging  the  Drops. 

Organic  Egotism. 

An  Embodiment  of  Nothing. 

Animal  Spirits.  —  "My  distresses  are 
so  many  that  I  can't  afford  to  part  with  my 
spirits." 

The  Difficult  Ways  of  Honesty. 

Life,  the  Touchstone  of  Profession. 

One-Eyed  Men.  — "  It  is  only  in  the 
kingdom  of  the  blind  that  one-eyed  men 
are  kings." 

Sally  Jackson's  Dream-Book. 

Faith  in  Knavery. — Jonas  Chuzzlevvit. 

The  Books  That  Have  Flavor. 

The  Fidelity  of  Silence. 

Avarice  of  Reward. 

Keyholes.  —  Tom  Jones. 

Milk  and  Praise.  —  Mary  Lamb. 

Morbid  Oblivion.  —  Johnson  to  Boswell. 

Medicines  for  the  Mind.  —  A  saying  of 
Burke's.  Holmes  in  the  Autocrat.  Burns. 
Old  pamphlet  of  Dr.  Wayland's. 

Summer  Friends.  —  Timon  of  Athens. 

Falsehood  of  Extremes.  —  Justice  with- 
out mercy. 

An  Autumnal  Harvest  of  Leisure.  — 
Wordsworth's  letter  to  Crabb  Robinson. 


In  a  Club  Corner  323 

Sensibility  of  Reproach. — Swift.  Steele's 
last  paper  of  the  Englishman. 

The  Dismal  Precocity  of  Poverty.  — 
Becky  Sharp. 

Intellectual  Detachment. 

Sour  Bread.  —  Hawthorne's  great  horror. 
Marble  Faun.  „ 

The  Brutality  of  Justice.  —  To  be  treated 
satirically. 

The  Sniveling  Virtue  of  Meekness.  — 
Walter  Shandy. 

Incorrigible  and  Losing  Honesty. — 
Lamb's  father. 

Ornamental  Sorrow.  —  The  Widow  Row- 
ens. 

A  Habit  of  Virtue.  —  Sterne. 

Constitutional  Inertness. 

Ferocious  Discontent. 

The  Dull  Virtuous  and  the  Brilliant 
Wicked. 

A  Glutton  of  Books. 

Solemn  Plausibilities. 

Avarice  in  Youth. 

Protracted  Misery. 

Expansive  Intentions.  —  Skimpole. 

Snappishness  of  Tone.  —  The  brisk  old. 

Domestic  Dyspepsia.  —  The  name  given 
to  the  disease  of  which  Jane  Carlyle  was  a 
chronic  sufferer,  by  Caroline  Fox. 


}24  In  a  Club  Corner 

The  Decencies  of  Ignorance.  —  John 
Buncle. 

Too  Quickly  Won.  —  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

The  Holy  Goggle.  —  Halifax's  advice  to 
his  daughter. 

The  Infirmity  of  Pride.  —  Bulwer's  Earl 
of  Warwick. 

Other  People's  Sins. 

The  Equity  of  Providence.  —  Rasselas. 

Microscopic  Eyes. 

Socrates'  Sauce. 

Foresight  of  Troubles.  —  John  Buncle. 

Unfinished  Faces. 

The  Devil's  Amanuensis.  —  A  misan- 
thropic writer.  Hazlitt's  Commonplaces. 
Humboldt.  Schopenhauer.  Sir  Thomas 
Browne. 

Aggressive  Self-Possession. 

The  Rapture  of  Ravage. 

Cork  John.  —  Nimble.     Always  atop. 

The  Infinite  Malice  of  Destiny.  —  Shel- 
ley to  Hogg. 

Omnigenous  Erudition.  —  Celestial  Rail- 
road. 

The  Feeling  of  Identity  and  the  Instinct 
of  Perpetuity. 

Married  Misery. 

The  Wild  Thunder  Months.  —  Richter. 

Disenchanted   Maturity.  —  "The  years 


In  a  Club  Corner  325 

that  bring  the  philosophic  mind."  Prelude 
to  Laon  and  Cythna. 

Patent  Antifrictions.  —  Oil  of  flattery, 
etc. 

The  Air  of  Omnipotence. 

Moral  Physicians. 

Wise  Slowness.  —  Sainte-Beuve.  Mad. 
Geoffrin. 

Raking  the  Desk  of  the  Devil.  —  Byron's 
club-foot.  Byron  and  his  sister.  Napo- 
leon and  his  sisters.  Memoirs  of  Mad.  de 
Remusat. 

The  Medicine  of  Example. 

The  Healing  Power  of  Admiration. 

The  Etiquette  of  Sectarianism. — 
George  Eliot. 

Running  a  Thought  to  Death. 

The  Popularity-Hunting  Air. 

Post  Mortem  Wisdom. 

The  Habit  of  Belief. 

The  Diseases  of  Sorrow. 

Suffrage  as  a  Safety- Valve. 

The  Mythical  Indispensable  Man. 

Ignorance  as  a  Medium.  —  "  One  can  see 
anything  in  a  fog,"  is  a  saying  of  the  Dutch. 

On  Exchanging  Advantages. 

Sanscrit  for  Memoranda. 

Responsibility  the  Basis  of  Morals. 

Applied  Christianity. 


$26  In  a  Club  Corner 

This  World  in  the  Next.  —  Farrar,  in 
his  lecture  on  Dante. 

Living  on  the  Privations  of  Others. 

Living  on  Brilliant  Hopes. 

An  Enthusiast  Without  a  Mission. 

What  tc  Do  with  the  Kittens  ? 

The  Fool's  Eye  in  an  Old  Head. 

On  Being  Found  Out.  —  Fag  in  The 
Rivals. 

The  Fury  Passions.  —  "  The  vultures  of 
the  mind." 

The  Unforgiving  Eye.  —  Sir  Oliver's. 

The  Dread  of  Scolding  Women.  —  Cap- 
tain Cuttle,  after  he  fled  from  Mrs.  Mac- 
Stinger's,  "  lived  a  very  close  and  retired 
life,  seldom  stirring  abroad  after  dark ; 
venturing  even  then  only  into  the  obscur- 
est streets,  never  going  forth  at  all  on  Sun- 
days ;  and  both  within  and  without  the 
walls  of  his  retreat,  avoiding  bonnets,  as  if 
they  were  worn  by  raging  lions."  Hesiod. 
Juno's  tongue.  Doctor  to  his  patient. 

The  Universal  Dependence. 

Posthumous  Reflections. 

Behind  the  Time,  and  Poor.  —  Solomon 
Gills. 

Making  an  Effort.  —  Mrs.  Chick's  reply. 

The  Desolation  of  Disuse.  —  Dombey's 
house. 


///  a  Club  Corner  327 

Rash  Judgment.  —  One  of  Lamb's  Es- 
says. Wesley's  warning. 

Sanctified  Immoralities. 

Books  in  Phrases.  —  In  Shakespeare, 
Browne,  Sterne,  Emerson,  etc.,  and  in 
every  wise  man's  conversation. 

The  Mystery  of  the  Lady. 

Personal  Option. 

The  Goitre  of  Egotism.  —  Emerson. 

Self-Swindlers. 

Difficulties  of  Decency. 

Vice  of  Rectitude. 

Wrath  of  Celestial  Minds. 

Congestion  of  Ideas. 

Accident,  as  Element  or  Factor.  —  Na- 
poleon. Wellington.  Napier. 

Excess  in  Temperance. 

The  Hobby  Club.  —  Each  member  to  be 
permitted  uninterrupted  opportunity  to  air 
his  hobby. 

The  Slow  Coach.  — A  newspaper,  to  be 
made  up  from  the  papers  of  the  day  pre- 
vious,—  the  objectionable  and  the  ephem- 
eral to  be  omitted. 

The  Eddy  of  Indecision. 

Masks. 

The  Art  of  Friendliness. 

The  Uneasiness  of  Remorse. 

The  Loneliness  of  Pride. 


328  In  a  Club  Corner 

Sailing  on  a  Wish  from  World  to  World. 

Whatsoever  ye  would  do  unto  others  do 
ye  even  s'o  unto  them. 

Lord  be  merciful  unto  him  a  sinner. 

Passions  and  Aversions.  —  Fouche. 

The  Litany  of  our  Little  Miseries. 

How  to  make  Superfluous  People  Con- 
tent ? 

Homes  for  the  Indolent. 


INDEX  OF  PERSONS  REFERRED  TO 


About,  51. 
Addison,  13,  14,  29,  68,  105,  220. 

Blackmore,  179. 
Blessington,  Lady,  12,  313. 

jEsop,  170. 

Boileau,  221. 

Agassiz,  87,  222,  304. 
Alcibiades,  117. 

Bonstetten,  68. 
Boswell,  14,  104,  105,  US,  J5<>>  157,  245, 

Alcott,  10. 

322. 

Alexander  II.,  97. 

Bourrienne,  172. 

Allan,  288. 
Ampere,  183,  185. 
Angelo,  Michel,  104. 
Antiochus,  71. 

Brackenridge,  118. 
Brahe,  Tycho,  101. 
Bridget,  Saint,  56. 
Bronte,  Charlotte,  60. 

Apollodorus,  278. 
Arago,  185. 

Brougham,  16,  38,  116,  184. 
Browne,  Isaac  Hawkins,  105. 

Arbousset,  275. 

Browne,  Sir  Thomas,  102,  2Sg,  324,  327. 

Archimedes,  231. 

Bruce,  103. 

Ariosto,  43. 

Brun,  Madame  le,  25,  26. 

Aristides,  101. 

Buckle,  43,  97. 

Aristotle,  8,  287. 
Arnold,  Matthew,  120. 

Buddha,  134. 
Buffon,  179. 

Ascham,  66. 

Bulwer,  Sir  Lytton,  117,  123,  210,  315, 

Ashburton,  113. 

324. 

Athenaeus,  42. 

Buncle,  John    (Amory,   Thomas),   249, 

Augereau,  176. 

324- 

Aurelius,  Marcus,  in. 

Bunyan,  44. 

Austen,  Jane,  82. 

Burges,  Tristam,  301. 

Burke,  100,  140. 

Bacon,  too,  in. 

Burns,  30,  113,  322. 

Ballange,  de,  40. 

Burrowes,  Peter,  182,  187. 

Balzac,  109. 

Burton,  Robert,  13,  220. 

Barbauld,  Mrs.,  84. 

Butler,  220. 

Barham,  14,  217. 
Barrington,  Sir  Jonah,  142. 

Byron,  25,  32,  63,  107,  122,  123,  140,  148, 
149,  212,  258,  325. 

Barton,  85. 

Bayle,  238. 
Beauclerk,  19,  44. 

Caesar,  Julius,  282. 
Caligula,  282. 

Beaumont,  182. 

Camden,  Lord,  181,  263. 

Beethoven,  46. 

Campanella,  99. 

Bellows,  Dr.,  302. 

Campbell,  122,  123. 

Bentley,  223. 

Campbell,  Dr.,  186. 

Bergerac,  44. 
Bernard,  44. 

Canning,  118,  180. 
Caracalla,  282. 

Berry,  Miss,  34. 

Carlisle,  Lord,  24. 

Bismarck,  33,  118,  194-                                   Carlyle,  34,  58,  100,  no,  HI,  112,  113, 

330 


Index  of  Persons  referred  to 


124,    125,    130,    I??,    193,   210,   219,   258, 

Dumas,  37,  199. 

26l,  264,  274,  310,  323. 

Dyer,  187,  188,  189. 

Cato,  66,  101,  309. 

Cavour,  33. 

Eckermann,  164. 

Chamfort,  8. 

Eliot,  George,  12,  204,  258,  283,  285,  287, 

Chamloe,  66. 

325. 

Channing,  Dr.,  113. 

Emerson,  7,  29,  41,  58,  91,  113,  114,  121, 

Charles  11.,  298. 

«66,  190,  195,  203,  210,  224,  251,  256, 

Chateaubriand,  129. 
Chevreul,  67. 

258,  264,  272,  274,  283,  321,  327. 
Epictetus,  in. 

Choate,  Rufus,  299. 

Erasmus  281. 

Churchill,  24. 

Erskine,  116. 

Cibber,  Colley,  68. 

Euclid,  183. 

Cibber,  Mrs.,  164. 

Cicero,  73,  203,  236,  258,  274. 

Farquhar,  42,  43,  103,  296. 

Claudius,  28.1. 

Farrar,  326, 

Clay,  Henry,  179. 

Fenelon,  266. 

Clement,  Pope,  267. 

Fenn,  Harry,  83. 

Cobbett,  72. 
Cocchi,  Dr.,  230. 
Coleridge,  19,  20,  21,  22,  23,  40,  45,  51, 
85,  100,  180,  182,  183. 

Fielding,  42,  44,  286. 
Fields,  James  T.,  93,  94. 
Fitzgerald,  190. 
Fitzherbert,  44. 

Coleridge,  Hartley,  21. 
Collier/U 
Commodus,  282. 

Flacourt,  275. 
Flachsland,  MUe.,  218. 
Fletcher,  43,  44,  183. 

Congreve,  103. 
Cooke,  208. 

Flood,  72. 
Fontenelle,  44. 

Cooper,  102. 
Corneille,  171,211. 

Foote,  153,  157,  158,  162,  163,  300. 
Foster,  John,  54. 

Cornwall,  Barry  (Procter),  187,  216,  280, 

Fouche,  25,  328. 

287. 

Fox,  113,  140. 

Cowper,  TOI,  no. 
Crabhe,  123. 
Crawford,  VV.  H.,  397. 

Fox,  Caroline,  323. 
Franklin,  Dr.,  76,  297,  298. 
Frederic  the  Great,  200. 

Cre'billon,  70,  210. 
Cromwell,  173,  177. 

Frere,  Hookam,  179. 
Froude,  88,  112,  175,  258. 

Cross,  204. 

Fuller,  220. 

Gumming,  Gordon,  169. 

Curran,  37. 

Galba,  282. 

Cuvier,  87. 

Gainsborough,  156. 

Gait,  John,  176. 

Dante,  43,  44,  58,  165,  285,  3*6. 

Garrick,  105,  106,  138,  140,  152,  in,  '54, 

Darwin,  83,  233,  293. 

'55,  »S6,  157,  '$3,  159,  16',  ite,  '63, 

Davies,  161,  163. 
Daw,  Lady,  38. 
Deffand,  Madame  du,  12. 

too,  208,  221,  286,  296. 
Gellius,  Aulus,  42. 
Geoff  rin,  Madame,  325. 

Demosthenes,  221,  236. 

Genlis,  Madame  de,4o,  46,  130,217,  222. 

De  Quincey,  67,  107,  123,  181,  196. 
Dickens,  44,  125,  128,  173,  244,  251,  292, 

George  I.,  137. 
George  II  I.,  141. 

3->4- 

George  IV.,  138. 

Diderot,  60,  125,  154. 

Gibbon,  44,  48,  107,  125. 

Dilke,  20. 

Gibson,  237. 

Diogenes,  57. 
Dodington,  Bubb,  14,  234. 

Giotto,  165,  166. 
Gladstone,  253. 

Domitian,  282. 

Godwin,  56. 

Doran,  09. 

Goethe,  41,  63,  67,  71,  76,  80,  164,  175, 

Draper,  202  ,  276. 
Dudley,  Lord,  186 

212,221,234,235,239,277. 
Goldsmith,  181. 

Index  of  Persons  referred  to 


Gordon,  Duchess  of,  30. 
Gordon,  Lord  George,  173. 

159,  168,  191,  209,  219,  237,  245,  246, 
258,  289,  322. 

Goptchevitch,  253. 

Joubert,  296. 

Grammont,  130. 

Grattan,  72,  182. 

Kean,  Edmund,  321. 

Gray,  51. 

Keats,  20,  95. 

Gregory,  Pope,  193. 

Kelly,  145 

Grimaldi,  201. 

Kem'ble,  Charles,  216. 

Guizot,  96. 

Kemble,  Frances  Anne,  40. 

Kenyon,  John,  77. 

Hallam,  24. 

King,  162. 

Hamerton,  69. 
Hamilton,  William  Gerard.  105. 

King,  Thomas  Starr,  92. 
Kinglake,  34. 

Harvey,  72. 

Klopstock,  108. 

Hastings,  Warren,  140,  141,  142,  172. 
Hawthorne,  46,  81,  83,  85,  109,  117,  165, 

Knox,  John,  268. 

197,  223,  260,  265,  273,  286,  323. 

La  Bruyere,  8,  67,  274. 

Haydn,  104. 

La  Fontaine,  182,  296. 

Haydon,  152. 

Lamarck,  222. 

Hayne,  263. 

Lamartine,  268. 

Hayward,  25. 

Lamb,   Charles,  20,  22,  35,  76,  83,  88, 

Hazlitt,  61,  196,  262,  303,  324 

107,  219,  224,  257,  287,  288,  305,  323, 

Heine,  25,  92. 

327. 

Heliogabalus,  282. 

Lamb,  Mary,  322. 

Helvetius,  221. 

Landor,  40,  no,  117. 

Henderson,  166,  221. 

Landseer,  283. 

Heraclitus,  65. 

Lannes,  18. 

Herbert,  Lord,  273. 

La  Rochefoucauld,  8,  66,  105. 

Herder,  86,  218. 

Laud,  241. 

Hesiod,  326. 

Law,  200. 

Hill,  Rowland,  278. 

Lawrence,  Sir  Thomas,  101,  280. 

Hillard,  47. 
Hogarth,  60,  104,  155,  220,  286. 

Layard,  235,  236. 
Lavater,  283. 

Hogg.  34,  283,  324. 

Leslie,  180. 

Holbein,  281; 

Lessing,  186. 

Holland,  Lady.  23. 

Lewes,  George,  284,  285. 

Holmes,  10,  28,  29,  61,  119,  167,  281, 

Lewis,  Monk,  151. 

Homer,  43,  70,  179,  195. 

Lichtenberg,  154. 
Lieber,  Dr.  Francis,  89. 

Hood,  101. 

Lincoln,  109,  222. 

Hook,  14,  15,  220,  239. 

Lind,  Jenny,  258. 

Horace,  43. 

Linley,  Miss,  138. 

Humboldt,  58,  69,  87,  89,  324- 

Liston,  104. 

Hume,  53. 

Liszt,  12. 

Hunt,  27,  239,  279,  283,  290. 

Livy,  231. 

Hugo,  173,  244. 
Huth,  43. 

Llanos,  187,  188,  189. 
Locke,  179,  220. 

Lockhart,  32,  62,  63. 

Irving,  Henry,  94. 
Irving,  Washington,  34,  83,  106,  211,  220, 
223. 

Longfellow,  123,  223. 
Louis  XL,  213. 
Louis  XIV.,  32,  240. 

Louis  Philippe,  96. 

Jeffrey,  72,  112,  122. 

Lowell,  107. 

errold,  35,  36,  37,  198,  285,  3M- 

Lucan,  102. 

oceline,  56. 

Lucian,  57,  78. 

ones,  John  Paul,  97. 
ohnson,  Dr.,  14,  44,  45,  54,  S3,  79,  81, 

Luther,  191,  281. 
Luttrell,  37,  280. 

«>5,  "S.  '35,  IS*,  153,  154,  iS7,  158, 

Lysias,  114,  115. 

Index  of  Persons  referred  to 


Macaulay,  19,  23,  24,  39,  44,  102,  119,  157, 
252. 

Ovid,  43. 
Owen,  Professor,  232. 

Machiavelli,  127. 

Mackintosh,  52,  120. 

Paley,  56. 

Macklin,  154,  *79- 
MacLeod,  Donald,  62,  225. 
Macnab,  Laird  of,  34. 

Parker,  Theodore,  264. 
Parnell,  82. 
Parsons,  90. 

Macready,  169,  170. 
Mahomet,  289. 

Pascal,  27. 
Pasta,  Madame,  203. 

Maintenon,  Madame  de,  258. 

Patrick,  Saint,  56. 

Mann,  Sir  Horace,  39. 

Pattison,  124. 

Manzoni,  164,  203. 

Paxton,  230. 

Maria  Theresa,  queen  of  Hungary,  75. 
Marshall,  Chief  Justice,  192, 

Pericles,  117. 
Peterborough,  102. 

Martineau,  Miss,  213. 

Petrarch,  267. 

Mathews,  Charles,  52,  33,  145. 

Phasdrus,  249. 

Maudsley,  257. 

Piozzi,  Mrs.,  70. 

Mazzini,  96. 

Piron,  300. 

Mencius,  309. 

Pitt,  116,  1  18,  140. 

Menippus,  57. 

Pittacus,  315. 

Metternich,  7. 

Plato,  90. 

Michelet,  318. 

Pliny,  50. 

Mill,  86,  181,  256. 

Plunket,  187. 

Milton,  36,  43,  124,  '68,  2W,  219,  238. 

Plutarch,  42,  65,  1  14,  170,  244. 

Mirabeau,  127. 
Moliere,  42,  166. 

Poe,  250,  251,  321. 
Pompadour,  Madame  de,  70. 

Moltke,  von,  308. 

Pope,  13,  91,  122,  155,  220. 

Monk,  223. 

Powers,  264. 

Montagu,  Lady  Mary  Wortley,  9,  14,  73, 
127,234,238. 

Procter  (Barry  Cornwall),  20,  21,  23,  187, 
216,  280,  287. 

Montaigne,  42,  61,  70,  1  14,  124,  246. 
Montesquieu,  106,  309. 

Ptircell,  236. 
Putnam,  Israel,  299. 

Moore,  37,  144,  148,  222,  223,  280. 
More,  Hannah,  156,  224. 

Quin,  154,  155,  162,  296,  297. 

Morley,  215. 

Mowatt,  Mrs.,  179. 
Miiller,  Max,  168. 
Murat,  18. 
Murphy,  159. 

Rabelais,  211,  281,  294. 
Racine,  171,  211,  221. 
Randolph,  John,  301. 
Raucourt,  Mile.,  18. 

Ray,  Lieut,  96. 

Napier,  112. 

Recamier,  Madame,  31. 

Napier,  Sir  Charles  James  327. 
Napoleon,  18,  25,  50,  89,  171,  172,  176, 

Renan,  249. 
Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  309 

325,  3*7- 

Ribot,  292. 

Neander,  91. 

Rich,  297. 

Nelson,  258. 

Richardson,  220. 

Nero,  282. 

Richelieu,  130. 

Newton,  179,  230,  235. 
Northcote,  48,  62,  65,  196. 
Novalis   (Hardenberg,   Friedrich   von), 

Richter,  29,  222,  278,  324. 
Robertson,  30. 
Robinson,  23,  77,  189,  322. 
Rogers,  23,  37,  38,  39,  84,  113,  148,  150, 

Nowell,  Dean,  99. 

Roland,  Madame,  13,  101. 

O'Leary,  Father,  148. 
Olivet,  105. 

Romilly,  115. 
Rooke,  Sir  Giles,  132. 

Opie,  196,  280. 

Rousseau,  130,  199,  215- 

Orrery,  Lord,  155. 

Rowe,  n,  102. 

Orton,  49. 

Rumford,  252,  253. 

Index  of  Persons  referred  to 


333 


Ruskin,  52,  55,  136 

Taine,  55. 

Rutilius,  309. 

Talleyrand,  14,  15,  16,  18,  129. 

Saadi,  204. 

Talma,  170. 
Taylor,  Sir  Henry,  204, 

Sand,  George,  12. 

Temple,  58. 

Sainte-Beuve,  101,  325. 
Saint  Evremond,  197. 

Tennyson,  123. 
Thackeray,   24,  29,    34,    119,    121,    i3oy 

Savonarola,  285. 

273. 

Scarron,  Madame,  n. 

Thiers,  115. 

Schiller,  256. 
Schlegel,  113. 

Thomas,  Miss,  286. 
Thompson,  Dominie,  34. 

Schopenhauer,  120,  324. 

Thomson,  222,  304. 

Scott,  32,  34,  62,  88,  122,  123,  179,  212, 

Thomson,  Dr.,  56. 

225,  243. 
Scott,  Mrs.,  34. 

Thoreau,  71,  247,  256,  259,  266,  278. 
Thorwaldsen,  263. 

Selwyn,  George,  14,  103,  103. 
Senancour,  de,  107. 

Thrale,  159. 
Thucydides,  244. 

Seneca,  in,  164. 

Thurlow,  36. 

Senior,  31. 

Tiberius,  282. 

Shakespeare,  29,  41-43,  92-94,  95,  138, 

Titian,  80. 

168,  204. 

Titus,  282. 

Sharp,  Conversation,  23. 

Tocqueville,  de,  31,  321. 

Shaw,  Dr.,  230. 

Townshend,  Charles,  14. 

Sheffey,  Daniel,  301. 

Townshend,  old  Lord,  55. 

Shelley,  67,  98,  283,  324. 
Sheridan,  42,  44,  9°,  i°4,  '37,  '38,  139, 

Trelawny,  98. 
Trollope,  T.  A.,  283. 

140,  142,  143.  145.  M6,  M7»   148,  149, 

Truro,  Lord,  221. 

150,  151. 

Turgenieff,  97. 

Sheridan,  Mrs.,  143. 

Sheridan,  Gen.,  90. 

Van  Amburgh,  283. 

Siddons,  Mrs.,  151,  154,  19*. 
Sidney,  Sir  Philip,  298. 

Vanbrugh,  42,  103. 
Vere.  Sir  Horace,  308. 

Simonides,  271. 

Vinci,  Leonardo  da,  288. 

Simson,  Robert,  184,  185. 
Smith,  Adam,  184. 

Virgil,  43. 
Voltaire,  44,  87,  120,  126,  210,  221,  252, 

Smith,  Sydney,  9,  14,  15,  37,  59,  '°8,  in, 
179,  186,  231,  252,  264. 

275,  281,  300. 
Vitellius  282. 

Smollett,  44,  106. 

Socrates,  57,  92,  246,  264,  274,  3°9i  3'S- 

Walpole,  Horace,  14,  39,  68,  103,  189, 

Solon,  58,  274. 

234- 

Southey,  19,  1  10,  230,  240. 

Warburton,  220. 

Souvestre,  59,  248. 
Spence,  230. 

Washington,  83,  195. 
Watt,  James  231. 

Spenser,  43,  44. 
Stael,  Madame  de,  16,  25,  46,  68,  92,  107, 

Wayland,  Dr.,  322. 
Webster,  Daniel,  104,  113,  258,  260,  263, 

179. 

264,  265,  280. 

Steele,  7,  181,323. 

Wellington,  113. 

Sterne,  10,  224,  286,  323,  327. 
Sterne,  wife  of,  287. 

Wesley,  John,  no,  241,  242,  327. 
Whately,  193. 

Sterne,  daughter  of,  224. 

White,  Blanco,  93. 

Stewart,  Dugald,  243. 

White,  Gilbert,  233. 

Story,  Judge,  263. 
Sugden,  38. 
Sumner,  112. 

White,  Grant,  42. 
Whitefield,  156. 
Wilberforce,  102,  149. 

Swedenborg,  252. 
Swift,  7,  9,  29,  42,  44,  57,  67,  69,  82,  122, 

Wilkes,  225. 
Wilkie,  80. 

"37.  220,  323. 
Symonds,  98. 

Wilks,  296. 
William  Rufus,  140. 

334 


Index  of  Persons  referred  to 


William  the  Silent,  136. 
Williams,  Hanbury,  14. 
Wolsey,  176. 

Wordsworth,  23,  222,  310,  322. 
Wycherley,  42.  . 


Young,  £>r.,290. 
Young,  William,  234. 


Zeuxis,  165. 
Zoroaster,  274. 


000  022  961     7 


